


Make Egypt Great Again: Waking up as Cleopatra VII Philopator

by Raunchel



Category: Ancient Egyptian RPF, Ancient History RPF
Genre: Ambition, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Ancient Egyptian RPF - Freeform, Ancient Greece, Ancient History, Ancient RPF, Ancient Rome, Art, Assassination, Betrayal, Character Death, Cruelty, Decadence, Egypt, F/F, Family, Gen, Hellenism, Historical, Historical Accuracy, Illness, Intrigue, Lesbian Character, Madness, Manipulation, Modern girl in the ancient world, Moral Ambiguity, Original Character(s), POV First Person, POV Lesbian Character, Parthia, Period-Typical Sexism, Poetry, Poison, Politics, Religion, Ritual, Sappho - Freeform, Scheming, Science, Secrets, Self-Insert, Slavery, Time Travel, Torture, War, kush - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7785862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raunchel/pseuds/Raunchel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows the story of the last of the Ptolemaic rules, Cleopatra VII Philopator. The only woman who was ever truly feared by Rome. But, what if she did not live the life she lived in our history? What if, instead of the mind of Cleopatra, someone else awoke in her head? Someone from the modern world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: She of the Sedge and the Bee

It’s hot, horribly, awfully hot. It’s not supposed to be this horrible, but it is. The bed I’m on seems to be moving, a bit like a ship in the water, this isn’t normal. Not normal at all. I yawn, stretching myself before opening my eyes. I appear to be in a room, brightly coloured and with beautifully painted walls. Briefly, I rub my eyes, is it just me, or are they a little larger than they should be? I don’t know, but the image becomes clearer. I’m not alone. I see several women, dressed in flowing white dresses. One of them bows towards me, holding a golden goblet. I immediately take it into my hands, grasping for it. I’m so terribly thirsty and hot. It is heavy, heavier than I would have expected, but still I manage to bring it to my mouth, drinking the comforting cool water even if some flows right past my mouth. It doesn’t matter; I’m wet with sweat anyways.

Finally I can think a little more, taking in my surroundings, which still seem to be moving. I don’t recognise this place, not at all. Slowly, I raise myself a little, onto my elbows. Strangely enough, I don’t seem to be wearing my glasses, but can still see clearly. And these strangers, I don’t know any of them, in their long dresses. My eyes wander down, towards myself. There is something wrong. I appear to be wearing what looks like gold. I never wear that; it is gaudy. I’m not a rapper or something. But then I notice, my feet. They are different. My toes aren’t like that. Not at all, I never had such a pedicure, and the arrangement is different too.

Another of the strangers leans towards me, whispering: “Your Holy Majesty, your father wants you to know that we have entered the palace.”

“Thank you”, I mutter, feeling tired and weak. Why is it so awfully hot here? I don’t want to know what it is like outside, in the sun. I notice surprise in the woman, shouldn’t I have thanked her? I don’t know, but my mind starts to race. Where on Earth am I? And what has happened? The last thing I remember was a nice night out, which might have involved a little bit too much in the way of drinks, and I recall going home with someone. She was nice and pretty. The perfect combination. But she wasn’t any of these women, and she also isn’t here. My mind goes to a silly little story I was writing, about a... Oh my God! I know it. I must have been taken to some other time and place. Please, don’t let it be Westeros or anything to do with that awful world.

I will have to find out, I have to know. But how can I do it? I will have to ask carefully, the right questions. But not to these strangers, they seem too much like servants, too surprised even by gratitude. I can’t talk with them. Instead, I slowly sit up, looking at my bare arms. Although, bare is a bit of the wrong word, with all the jewelry around them. The skin is pale, but otherwise looks good, much better than mine. If only because there are no freckles everywhere.

I look down at my dress, it is not gold, there simply are many golden decorations on the purple, the pure purple. I recall it being a very expensive colour in the ancient world, which must almost certainly be where I am. I can’t think of anything more recent where anyone would be called holy majesty. I am obviously travelling with my father, which means that I am either a princess of some sorts, or that I am married to a king. The fact that I am travelling means that I am either on a boat, or on a cart of some kind. Unless I am being carried of course, but that seems a little over the top really. The pilasters or columns in the walls point to something classical, but I can’t quite place it. Of course, being a holy majesty means some sort of claim to divinity, which points to the east.

My thoughts are disturbed however when the motion suddenly stops, and worse still, it feels like the whole world is lowered. Luckily, I wasn’t standing. One of the women heads to what looks like the door, right in front of me, and slightly opens it. I can hear voices, but don’t understand what they are saying. The door is closed again, and she returns to me, bowing: “Your Holy Majesty, we have arrived and your father requests your presence.”

I sit up, and another of them puts sandals on my feet. I really don’t have to do anything at all. A third places something on my head, but I can’t see it very well. What I do see are feathers, along with what looks like golden horns around a golden sphere. I can feel fabric by the sides of my head, but don’t dare to bring my hands up. There has to be a reason to my appearance.

When everything seems ready, I stand up, swaying a little. It remains very warm, and I get the feeling that I might faint. Luckily, I don’t. I walk towards the door, which suddenly opens. It is light, very light and bright, temporarily blinding me. But despite that, I keep walking, even though I am blinking against the sunlight.

After some time I can see again, making out the shapes of people around me. I descend from several steps, from my travelling home. The first thing I see is the colour. The whole place is brightly coloured, depicting human forms, men and women both. The style is familiar, very familiar even. Egyptian. I swallow, I know only a little bit about Egypt, I haven’t even been there. But then, as my vision clears some more, I notice people. All sorts of people. But the most common seem to be men with tall, oval red shields and all too familiar helmets. I swallow, Romans. Other than them there are many others, most of them men.

And right in front of me, a slightly older man, dressed in what seems to be some form of armour, and wearing a crown. A red crown with something white in the middle. And gold of course. He looks more than a little overweight, but I know the crown. I have seen it a depicted a dozen times at least, and strangely enough, I even recall the name. The Pschent. The crown of Upper and Lower Egypt. The crown belonging to the Pharaoh. He turns slightly towards me, extending an arm. I guess that he must be either my father or husband. Whatever happens, it’s better to not offend him too badly, so I take the arm. It feels warm and moist.

I notice a smile, and he speaks: “Finally, after all these years, home again. It feels good doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does.”, I reply, feeling shy in front of all these people.

The man leads me into the palace, accompanied by armed men. Most of them Romans. I try to remember what this could be, which Egyptian king worked with the Romans? It has to be one of the Ptolemies, but I can’t remember any in specific. Just that they all had that name. The inside of the palace is beautiful, and I find myself looking at the hieroglyphs, painted onto the walls. Somehow, I notice that I can read them. It makes little sense, but still, more sense than waking up as someone else.

In places, I notice slight damage, but much remains hidden. We reach a grand room, with a pair of golden thrones placed onto a series of steps. The taller of them also happens to be placed one step higher, presumably to show who is the really important one. The fat pharaoh waggles up the steps, surprisingly, he manages to make it to the top. I follow of course. He turns around, and one of the first things to strike me about him are his bulging eyes, closely followed by the fact that he seems to be trembling. He whispers: “Kneel”

I of course obey, kneeling before the standing king. I don’t know what is supposed to happen now, but luckily he continues talking, now with a more powerful voice: “In the presence of all the gods, of our divine ancestor Osiris or Dionysos, we present our daughter: The great Lady of perfection, who is excellent in counsel. The great one, sacred image of her father, She of the Sedge and the Bee, the goddess Cleopatra who is beloved of her father. She is the Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt, to reign by our side.”


	2. Chapter 2: Epiphaneia

After the brief coronation, I sit on the smaller throne, next to the Pharaoh. I suppress a shudder, recalling something about incest in the dynasties ruling Egypt. Unfortunately, I can’t recall the details of it, but as far as I know, it was mostly between brothers and sisters. But I can’t be sure. I should really have read more about this. In front of me, I see dozens of people, perhaps even hundreds. All of them standing. I can easily pick out Roman soldiers, even I know their dress, and from what I can see, all of them are officers. One of the most notable of them is a broad-faced young man with curly dark blonde hair. I can almost feel him looking at me, a look I know all too well but certainly do not like. Not at all.

He stands with the other Roman officers, who mostly look at my father or at each other. Aside from them, there are a few men in what looks like more Greek military garb, and then there is a whole bunch of men who seem more like civilians. A fair few of them are in fact rather tall, with small heads and smooth faces. There is something eerie about them, but they seem important.

“Bring in the prisoners!”, the Pharaoh almost shouts, and a little later side doors open. Armed men, Romans soldiers, push in well-dressed men and women. I see a smile form on my father’s face, a smile that I don’t find myself liking. I don’t like this situation at all, something is wrong with all this. There are dozens of them, all of them seemingly important people, judging by their clothes. People step away from them, as they are driven forwards, connected to each other by ropes. Behind them walks a man dressed as an Egyptian, armed with what looks like an axe, he is flanked by two younger men.

“Put their heads at our feet.”, he commands. The soldiers force the first of the prisoners to the ground, in a row in front of the throne and the axeman prepares himself, raising the weapon. I don’t want to look; I shouldn’t look; but I do look. I can’t take my eyes away as the weapon swings down at the kneeling man, and I see his head falling to the ground. He was bald and small-headed. But now he is no more. I see the blood gushing from the neck, and feel cold in my whole body. But it’s not the cold that I would welcome. It is one of horror. I look on with wide eyes, not saying a word, not even breathing anymore as one of the young men takes the head, and walks to the throne. He kneels, placing the head in front of the first step. I look into the dead eyes, feeling distant tears well up.

 

To stop myself from doing anything, I grasp the sides of my throne, holding them with strength. I can’t show anything, I might be seen as one of them. Another has his turn, he looks up to the king, begging: “Please, Holy Majesty, I did not belong to them! I swear it on the tombs of my forefathers. I had nothing to do with this! Please!”

But to no avail. One of the men pushes him down, and again the axe swings, and a second head falls. It rolls away, almost in a comical manner, but I don’t laugh. I can’t. I only look on as the boy races after it, before delivering it to the throne. I suppress a shiver at the sight, but again, I keep looking. I don’t want to, I try forcing myself to look at the back wall, at the murals and statues worked into it. It is beautiful, but my eyes are drawn downwards, back to the sight at my feet where a third victim, a rather old woman is forced to her knees. She shouts: “You are no Pharaoh! The gods despise you! You betrayed them to these barbarians!”

The axe comes down again, and a third head joins the others. More and more follow, and I see all of them, dying, placed at my feet. I glance sideways, seeing my father. He smiles, this gives him joy. I don’t know what to think of this, but I feel fear, true fear. This man is mad. I feel something clenching at my throat, but remain still, I can’t move, I can’t run like I would want to. All I see are the heads, more and more of them. More prisoners are led into the throne room, with clear fear on their eyes. Some go bravely, others have to be forced. But all of them die. There are shouts and screams, but nothing helps, it seems as though they only give pleasure to the Pharaoh.

I see soldiers carrying away the bodies of the dead, removing them, but leaving a trace of blood. So much blood. The smell alone is sickening, it is overwhelming. The court keeps its distance, physically away from the slaughter in front of them. I can understand it, if the city was just retaken, I wouldn’t want to be associated in any way with those who are murdered. The Romans stand in their gaggle, looking on passively. They are used to this sort of thing, while I am not. I don’t even want to be.

Finally, one of them approaches the throne and the king, whispering in such a way that I can hear it: “Your Majesty, this should be enough slaughter for the day, wouldn’t you agree? We can’t drown your palace in blood, and the foremost of your enemies were the first led into this place. Simply put the rest to work somewhere, to show some mercy.”

Another man falls in the meantime, while my father remains silent. Oh how I hope that he will just agree to this, that he will stop this. The Pharaoh smiles: “We have decided to extend mercy. These prisoners will not die. They will go to the mines in the Dodekaskoinos instead. But one will not go. Bring in the great prisoner.”

The relief on the faces in front of me is all too clear, but then one prisoner is dragged in, she is dressed in gold and purple, like myself, but her hair is different. It is thin and patchy, almost as though she is balding. She looks like my father, she has the same bulging eyes and appears sweaty. I wonder who she is, but the Pharaoh speaks again.

“Berenice. Daughter of our divine flesh paired with that of the goddess Cleopatra, our sister. You have revolted against your own father, you have betrayed your siblings and your gods. For that, there can be only one punishment. But, our heart remains filled with tender feelings., I see the look on her face, and it is all too clear that this is a lie, “and so, we will not have you, the murderess of your own mother, suffer the tortures that accompany the punishment you deserve. Instead, I will merely have your life taken.”

My sister. She’s my own sister and this madman is going to kill her. Just like all these other people, and for what? The princess looks at me when she replies: “Cleopatra, if you have any wisdom in you, you will kill this traitor with your own hands. He sold all of us to foreigners, he destroyed the kingdom for his own vanity. This lute-player is no true king, no heir of our great forefathers. He is nothing, and soon, when his foreign men are gone, the people will rise up again. Avenge my mortal flesh, sister. Be a goddess like I am.”

I look at her, with wide eyes. I don’t say a word, it would be madness. In a way, I agree with her. I think. My father is a madman, unsuited for the throne. But he is the one in power now, and I think that I am more than a little afraid. The king however interrupts her words: “Silence! Or we will inflict horrors on you that you can scarcely imagine. Bring us her head.”

Berenice is forced to her knees, her head held in place for the axe. But still she shouts: “I curse you, all of you who murder my divine body!”

And then the axe comes down, severing her head. The boy again takes it, but this time, he does not place it with the others. On his knees, he wobbles up the throne, never looking up, but holding out the head with his hands. I watch it approach, bile rising in my throat. I don’t want this, I want it all to stop.

Finally, he reaches the king, who gladly takes the head, turning it around in his hands. The sight is ghastly, but then he turns to face me. “Cleopatra, our divine daughter, I grant this to you as a gift, so you may always know that justice will protect you.”

Hardly noticing what I’m doing, I extend my hands, and the bloody head is placed in them. I don’t want to look at it, but I have to. I mutter: “Thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3: In the Purple

The rest of the day passed me in a blur, the petitions, the proclamations. I hardly saw a thing, only poor Berenice’s head, held in my bloody hands. When the court session was finally over, a servant took it from me and I was escorted through these hallways, which should dazzle me with their beauty. But I hardly notice, I only see the blood on my hands.

I don’t know where I’m going, I hardly even know where I am now. I only know that this is the palace. Luckily, I don’t have to walk, I am being carried. In a way, I know that it should make me feel bad, but it fails to do so. I don’t really find it all that unpleasant, I don’t even feel sorry for the carriers. Their walking has a soothing effect, a bit like being on a boat. One of the aspects of being queen that I could like, but soon enough my thoughts wander back to what I just saw.

As I leave the terrible scene behind, I finally manage to get some sort of order into my thoughts, to evaluate my situation. I am a queen, the daughter of a madman who just murdered one of his children, and got away with it. I was basically installed by the Romans, but I don’t know who in specific. What I do know however is that they are the ones who are really in charge, their army took the city, their army captured Berenice. Apparently, Berenice overthrow our father, and our mother died sometime in between. Either killed by her, or from another cause. There is no reason to not blame an enemy for such a thing. She called on me to overthrow the Pharaoh, I think that it would be a good thing, but I don’t dare to. He would murder me.

Instead, I have to think. I have to find out more before I can make a true plan. And most importantly, I have to avoid being brutally murdered. I see armed bald men standing by what looks like a gate, it is opened, and my chair is put down. Four bald men emerge, just like the guards they are tall and have small heads; they pick me up, and carry me through the doorway. It almost seems to be a different world. It is more colourful, even if there is less gold. And, strangely enough, the servants are different as well. More women, and the only men I see have these strangely small, bald heads and long legs. Most of them also seem to be rather fat, except for the carriers of course.

People bow as I pass them, but there is a wariness about them. It makes sense, I think. This palace was just taken by an army, and lots of people, people they might very well know, have been murdered. Finally, I am put down again, and girls approach, they seem shocked. After a few moments I understand, my hands are bloody, as are my clothes. It is downright sickening. They bow: “Holy Majesty, your bath is ready.“

I see one of the women who accompanied me before, looking on from a distance. She presumably is the one giving the instructions here. As I step down, I see a woman who walked behind me all the time. She carries the head on a plate. Immediately, I feel the colour drain from my face again. She bows as well: “Holy Majesty, where should I place this?”

I swallow. I have to say something. But what? If I say that she should take it away, my father could be offended, and I would end up like my sister. But I don’t want it around me all the time; that would drive me crazy. More crazy than I already am that is. These two feelings struggle with each other, but I have to reply, even if it is with a quivering voice. “Stay with me.”

I follow the girls, I could use a bath. Not a warm one though; even though the palace is cool, I still feel warm. But I want to wash, I want to keep washing until there isn’t a hint of all this left on me. I want this blood off my hands. It’s not that it’s blood that sickens me, it’s the memory of what caused it all to flow. I normally wouldn’t believe in curses, I am a scientist, but this is different. I mean, I also can’t explain how I ended up here. Somehow, I am afraid of that as well, but those thoughts are again drowned by the memory of what happened. All the blood.

The bath is not a simple tub, it’s more like a swimming pool. I can see mosaics on the bottom, I guess that they represent goddesses, but I see something else as well. My own reflection. I can’t see much, but I look thin, very thin even. And I can see that I have a round face. The girls remove my clothes, and I gladly step into the water. It’s lukewarm at best, and I find that I like it. Somehow, a hot bath would have been horrible. The water smells of flowers, and I can see red spreading away from me, diffusing away from me. It is an oddly hypnotic sight, and I feel a silly smile on my face.

I force it away. I have to be a strong queen, not a weak one. For a moment, I close my eyes, to think, to let it all flow away. But then it all changes. I feel a touch, on my back. My eyes flare open and I look back, seeing one of the girls. She bows her head: “Holy Majesty? Did I do wrong?”

She is with me, in the water, wearing her long white dress. I feel myself blushing: “Not at all, please, continue. But first tell me, what is your name?”

Her eyes widen, shocked by being spoken to like this. I’m messing up, I should be a cold and harsh queen. Not a friendly one. Not to the staff at least. “Apama, Holy Majesty”

“Have you been here for a long time, Apama?”, I ask, I have to know more. And perhaps this can even be a good thing.

“Yes, divine majesty. I was taken here as a child.”

“And where did you come from?”

“Dioscurias, Holy Majesty. It lies in Colchis.”, she replies softly. Unfortunately, I know neither of those names. Admitting it however could be a mistake, for all I know, it’s the name of a region just outside the city. I should have paid more attention to ancient geography. I might have heard of Colchis before, but wouldn’t know where it would have been. I guess that I can’t really ask about it, that would give away that I know nothing at all. And added to that, it might be painful for her to be reminded of her hometown.

It feels strange, to have someone wash me, but at least I can treat Apama as an actual human being. I can feel myself reacting to her touch, but I can’t. It would be dangerous. And worse, it would be wrong to use my position like that. Instead I just ask: “And how long have you been here?”

“Ten years, Holy Majesty”, she replies, sounding shy. I guess her to be about sixteen or so, so she must have come here as a child. I want to ask about her parents, but I can’t. Something might have happened to them. Or rather, it probably has. The touch on my back feels wonderful, and I feel a tingle spread through my body. The water is amazing, and no trace of the blood remains, diluted away. But in my mind I can still feel it sticking to my fingers.

I feel the sponge moving towards my front, and see Apama in the water with me. She is pretty, she has large dark eyes and black hair tied into a bun. She just wears what appears to be some sort of bikini of some white cloth. I don’t want to look at her, afraid that my eyes might betray something. There are so many questions, but so few that I can actually ask. “Do you have much experience with this?”

“No, Holy Majesty, I do not. Do I displease you?”, it seems like there actually is a hint of fear in her when she gives her answer.

“Not at all, you are doing very well. I was simply curious if you had ever done this before.”, strangely enough, I even see sadness in her poise. Not in her eyes, she keeps them averted, constantly looking down and never stopping her work. Some understanding dawns, she was here already. She must have served Berenice. Almost all the servants here did. Everyone who was even moderately important was taken to the throne room, and the most important of those were murdered. Apama’s predecessor must have been among them. Perhaps she even was her mother. I have to be more careful with what I ask. “Do you have many tasks?”

“My task is to wash you, Holy Majesty. There are no others.”, Apama seems a little calmer now, even as her hands move lower. I look down at myself, I am not at all like I would have imagined the famous Cleopatra. But then again, it could be that there were several, all the kings did have the same name, so why not the queens? It might be an earlier period then. I am thin, skinny even. My skin is pale, stretched around bones and perhaps a little muscle. If I am honest, I have to say that I am far from beautiful, but perhaps it is because I seem to still be a teenager. I look back on those days with dread.

“And I am glad that you do it well. It feels good to be here again.”, she finishes, submerging herself in the water to wash my lower legs and feet. The urge to embrace her is there, she is pretty, but it would be absolutely wrong. When she comes up again, she grasps for air. I don’t really know what to do, so I offer a smile and a few words. “Thank you for your help.”

I look behind me, seeing two other girls standing there with what looks like towels. I suppress a sigh, I will have to submit to it, and leave my nice cool bath behind. It’s strange, normally I always preferred hot baths. But the idea of hotness or warmth alone is something I find abhorrent now. It must be this awful weather. I walk up the steps that go into the bath, leaving Apama behind. She is pretty, and I hope that she will be there again. Even if it is wrong to have people do this for me.

And then I see it again. The poor woman still holding the plate with Berenice’s head. It seems like she is looking at me, but that’s impossible. I feel my stomach clenching, I have to find a way out of this all. The drying is tender, much more so than my usual experience when others dry me. But that might just be my luck. They seem to take extraordinary care with my hair, but still, what I see shocks me. There is a fair bit of hair in the towel, thin blonde hair. More than there should be, and more than there was before. I swallow, they weren’t rough. Perhaps I hadn’t washed in some time, as we travelled?

Afterwards I am dressed, again in purple and gold, even if the patterns are different. The clothes are nice and soft, and relatively cool too. The crown isn’t placed back on my head, in its place, there is a much simpler and lighter diadem. I stifle a yawn, feeling more and more tired from the day. But I don’t want to sleep, I know that I will have nightmares. I need to find something to do.


	4. Chapter 4: Flutes

Almost immediately, I fall asleep. But it is an unpleasant sleep, I feel hot and constantly awake, despite the best efforts of those who keep waving cool air at me. On one hand, it makes me feel better, warding off at least sime of the heat, but on the other, they are people, human beings who should not have to do so much work for the slight comfort of just one.

By the time that morning has come, I feel even more exhausted. I don't want to rise, but it appears that I don't have a say in such regards. Several women enter, amongst them two of those who travelled with me. They bow, and one speaks: "Holy Majesty, the Pharaoh commands you to rise and attend him."

Immediately I sit up, incapable of banishing the image of those two dead eyes, staring at me all night long. I see them again, wondering for a moment how long it will take for decay to set in. My heart beats faster, I would rather never see that awful man again. But I can't avoid him, I have to be brave.

When I stand up, I feel dizzy. Somehow, servants catch me immediately, as though this is normal. They take cloths dripping with cold water, and wash the sweat away. With that done, I am dressed in purple, and hung with jewelry and my crown. I can feel my face being painted, but can't see what they are actually doing. I will have to trust in their competence.

As soon as I leave the bedroom, the litter is there again. It feels decadent, but I gladly recline as these men carry me. Peculiarly enough, their strange appearance is the only kind of men I have seen beyond the gate to this wing. Given that these are my chambers, they must be eunuchs.

Again I pass through the beautiful hallways of the palace, again going through the gates, but the rest is different. I take in the surroundings, with much more clarity than yesterday. The head hasn't come with me, and that is a true relief. Everyone I pass bows, and all avoid my eyes. So many of them, it is wrong.

Finally there is another set of doors, guarded by men in gilded armour, they are tall and have tall plumes on their helmets. They do not bow, but merely open the doors while bowing their heads. They appear like soldiers, but the appearance is disturbed by the slouchy way they stand. I might not be much of a military person, but even I can see that it's not what a royal guard should be like.

Inside, the first thing I notice are the large windows, overlooking the sea. But my eyes are drawn away from the blue, to the purple garb of the Pharaoh, and the source of soothing music. He is reclining, playing a gilded flute. He actually is good at it, and I start to wonder why Berenice used it as an insult.

At his side, there is a boy, I estimate him to be around eight, but I tend to be horrible at such estimates, so he could be any age really. He looks like my father, and like Berenice, so I guess that he's a brother. Not a very beautiful child, but he has a striking, pointy nose. I resist the urge to touch mine, although I am curious about it.

"Boy.", Father begins, "Where are your manners? You might be a prince, but your queen has just entered."

"She's not my queen. And she's just a girl. I don't bow to a girl, Berenice made me, and she was mean.", he replies, with a hint of anger.

While he speaks, I stand up, even if lying down is so much more comfortable, and I bow to the Pharaoh: "Father."

"Not now. I'm teaching your brother to behave.", he replies before turning back to the boy: "Ptolemy, you are my son, and your sister can tell you that I am loath to hurt my flesh and blood, but don't force my hand."

"Hmf, I don't wanna.", he crosses his arms in determination.

"Son, she is to be your wife, to bear your children and to rule by your side, like she rules by mine. Show her the respect she deserves. You have to live with Cleopatra."

"No. She is stupid, and when I am pharaoh, she will have to do what I want her to do." For some reason, I start to really hate him, and I fear that I can't hide the feeling from my eyes. If only looks could kill, that would be easier than finding a way to poison the brat.

“That’s not how I would say such things“, I reply with more than a hint of hatred in my voice, “I am your sister, and as our father says, I am the queen. Our father is a kind and forgiving man, and he is generous too. Yesterday he gave me a special gift, you should take care that another will not become deserving of such a present.“

My words seem to have some effect, and his large eyes widen, while I see a slight smile forming on the pharaoh’s face. I force myself to smile, saying: “Of course, I would much rather have a sweet brother for to be my husband and king when the time comes.“

Finally, the boy bows his head. I feel bad for making such threats to a child, but I saw no other way. And it seems to be working. Maybe I can spare him after all, after a bit of a re-education. The pharaoh breaks off the conversation: „Good, that’s the spirit. Now, go, I have things to discuss with your sister.“

The relief on my brother’s face is all too clear when he darts off, through the doors and towards what I hope to be tutors, even if they must be terrible to allow such behaviour. I follow him with my eyes, noticing that my carriers have also departed, leaving me alone with the king. His face hardens when the doors close: „Try to be kind to your brother, he has not seen you in years. But that’s not why I called you here.“

“What do you wish to discuss then?”

“Sit down, I know how exhausting it can be to stand all the time.”, I obey, glad to take an easier position. Something is wrong with me, that even standing up for any length of time is too hard. I will have to do something about that. “I am happy that you could come with me, when I was driven into exile, but it was not only the machinations of one traitor that did that. The same people still dwell in this city, they still are the army, and they still work in the palace.”

“So, they have to be reformed.”, I guess, I can’t really think of another solution.

“If we could, it would be perfect. But, as you know, we had to make arrangements to allow us to return here. Expensive arrangements.”

That must point to the Romans, I guess. And if it is called expensive, I guess that we are practically bankrupt. “We need income then, to pay for these?”

“Yes. And our present incomes are not enough. Many people do not like me, I know that all too well. They think that I am a bad king for not standing up to the Romans like they would have wanted. But that would only lead to war, and that in turn would mean defeat, and the end of our whole kingdom. The kingdom that I intend to pass on to you and your brother. And you should pass it on to your children in turn. The only way to do that, is to not fight the Romans, and if it comes at the price of a rebellious island, it is no true price.”

“I understand. There is a reason why one of their armies stands here, and they were not repulsed.”

“Yes. We do not have their strength at arms.”

“But we have our wealth, and we have our lands. Egypt is rich, and it can be strong enough to not be conquered.”

“I would agree, but the people do not love me. And they do not know you.”

“Perhaps they could come to like me, and they would be willing to help with our other needs. Our pecuniary needs.”, I suggest, even though I have the feeling that it might be dangerous.

Father however smiles again: “Yes, that’s what I mean. You learned their language, you might go to these barbarians, and go through their dreadful rites. Your ship will depart when you are ready.”

“I am ready when I must be.”, I say, “but there is one question I have. About the gift you gave me, how should I keep it? I do not want to dishonour you by casting it away, but I fear that it might become putrid.”

“Just have servants strip off the flesh, then it no longer smells.”, the creepy smile returns, the one I saw yesterday.

“I will do that then. Other than that, I should be ready to depart.”

“Excellent. Get to what those old priests keep hidden from us, I know that they have plenty of gold somewhere.”


	5. Chapter 5: Canopic

There is something soothing about the movement of my ship on the river. It is big, at least, compared to most of the traffic, all of which moves aside for the galley. It should be easy for everyone to understand that this ship is important, the whole prow is covered in gold, shining brightly in the morning sun. The oars, which are in three layers but which I still have to count, are silver in colour. The carried room I arrived in stands on the deck, but I decided to lie outside, under a canopy of cloth of gold. I want to see my surroundings, this country, and I want to be seen. On the deck, there are a few dozen servants, and the music of a flute sounds continually from below it, in rhythm with the strokes of the oars. They appear to be widely spaced, and I get the idea that part of the rowers might be resting. Behind us, two more ships follow, they are of similar design, but don't have as expensive decorations as mine.As we pass through the harbour, I see dozens of ships. And this isn't even the great port, which I assume to be in the distance, near the massive tower that must be the lighthouse. It can be seen even over the walls of the city. I'm not much of an expert on walls, but it looks like they have seen better times. There are cracks in the stone and parts are covered by plants.On every ship we pass, all the passengers and crew bow to me, to my golden ship. On the shores the same happens, and I wonder if I should wave. I guess not, but I can't stop a smile from forming, this feels good. Almost as good as being away from that madman in the palace. I always wanted to sail up the Nile, to see Egypt, but I had never imagined it to be like this, with servants waving cool air at me, surrounded by gold and other signs of wealth. And especially not as the queen of Egypt. I wonder when and where this is, I know that the last queen was a Cleopatra, but there were many of them, and she is supposed to be beautiful, quite unlike the present me. It can't be later, but, as there are Romans here, who are very strong indeed, I think that I would either be the direct predecessor, or the one before that.

My thoughts however don't get me much further, especially because the landscape draws all of my attention. There are fields everywhere, and ever more ships, ranging from small boats to massive ships sailing down the river. To Alexandria. I can't take my eyes off them, until I see something in the water. I almost gasp, a hippo. The first time I ever see a nile-horse in the wild. It swims away from my galley, even such a beast knows better than to be in the way of such a vessel.

The journey continues all day long, causing me to wonder how the rowers can keep going, without any breaks in the pace. Nothing disturbs the journey, although I keep looking around, and thinking. Night starts to fall, but not even that slows my journey down, somehow, all three ships keep going, even after I withdraw to my little room, after having finished a dinner of something that looks like a fine paste, cut into the shapes of animals. They all look identical, but each has a different taste, one that I can't quite place, but which I find myself liking. There is a sweet wine that goes with it, but I don't have much, I should prevent brain damage.

The night frightens me, I slept poorly the previous one, and the only thing keeping my fears and thoughts under control was the presence of others. Only, now I no longer am in the palace, amongst the servants. There are only a few with me, and I fear that they will also have to sleep. I wish that I had a larger ship, with the space for people to watch me all night long. I need the idea of people around me.

Despite my fears, I allow myself to be undressed, and put abed for the night. One of the servants places herself on the ground, to stay in case I need her. But she will sleep. I try to force my thoughts to simple things, things that might distract me in some way. But nothing works. Every time I try to focus, I see it all again. The deaths, and everything else. I have to sleep, to escape into oblivion, but I can't catch it, and the harder I try, the more I remember, and the more awake I feel. I hear the beat of my heart, it seems fast, very fast even. I try listening to it, but once I do, once I follow the rhythm, I find that I can't. The timing between the beats is wrong, it keeps changing. And that in turn increases my fear. I touch my throat, it feels moist, and try to feel the beat. It is easy enough, but the frequency remains inconstant.

With a startle, I return to my senses, bathing in sweat. It's so hot, and pieces of images remain in my eyes. Heads. Just heads floating in a sea of blood. Heads with familiar faces, my mother. Each and every one of them is my mother's. Kind and harsh at once, her pleasant voice still echoes in my head. "God's punishment of you is just. You deserve this, sweetie."

Over and over again I hear it, while I try to force the memory away. But it won't go, it only becomes stronger. Until a voice breaks through it all: "Holy Majesty, is something the matter?"

I swallow, my throat feels so dry: "I had a bad dream, that's all."

"We will call a seer tomorrow, Holy Majesty, and he will explain this then. Do you wish for me to write it down?"

Argh. Normally I can get away with just some vague lies. But not now, some charlatan needs the details and for all I know, Father will hear it too. Or they'll use it to predict the future. It will be a bad omen for tomorrow at least. But I don't know if I can refuse. I have to, I need time to think: "That can wait until the morning, for now, I wish to sleep."

"As you command, Holy Majesty. Is there any other way in which I can serve you?"

"Yes, could you get me something to drink? I feel thirsty.', I reply, feeling pangs of guilt.

Mere moments later she gives me a goblet, and I eagerly drink the cool water. For a moment I wonder if it is safe, but it's better than nothing, and it seems unlikely that they would give impure water to the queen. Maybe I should demand all my water to have been boiled first.

The water seems to be absorbed by my dry lips and mouth, but it does make me feel better. "Thank you."

She is silent, and for a few moments I wonder if I did something wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have thanked her? Luckily, she soon speaks again: "Is there anything else you wish, Holy Majesty?"

"Yes", I say without thinking, "could you come here, to lie by my side? It is bound to be more comfortable than the ground, and I feel lonely."

I feel myself starting to blush. This is stupid. I should have more self-control, and certainly shouldn't be doing this. Again she is silent, I want to take back my words, to get myself under control. It's wrong to even think of something like this. Finally, hesitating words come, spoken almost as a whisper: "Thank you, Holy Majesty."

The girl lies down next to me, but still at a distance. I don't know what to do, it reminds me of the horror of the slumber parties from when I was a teenager, in bed with other girls, but mortally afraid of showing even a hint of my feelings, my desires, and most of all, what I would do while I would be asleep. I feel the same way now, only there is a second source of shame. I made this happen, with my own empty mind and stupid words. There are plenty of dangers without making more myself.

I turn to my side, facing her. I don't even know her name, or even if I should know it already. It might not be the first time, but that doesn't make it any better. Her breathing is tense, this is far from normal then. I messed up. She is pretty though, from what I can see, with a round face and large dark eyes. And her dark skin is so smooth, it makes me feel that all too common mixture of jealousy and admiration. The urge to put an arm around her rises, but I force it down. I have done enough to mess things up already, and what I just did is simply unacceptable, I shouldn't do anything more.

But still, she has such beautiful lips. It's shocking, I don't even know what my own look like now. I must have looked thoughtful, because she asks: "Is anything the matter, Holy Majesty?"

"Oh no. I'm fine. I was just thinking. Please, make yourself comfortable and go to sleep."

"Yes, Holy Majesty.", She shifts a little, and closes her eyes, leaving me with my thoughts. I feel lost, even my body isn't mine anymore. Even when I couldn't do anything in the hospital I wasn't this alienated. I don't know anything about my body, except for the little that I have seen. I wouldn't even know my face from that of a stranger. I presume that I look like my relatives, but that's far from something hopeful or good. But at least I'm not fat, quite the contrary. I don't even know how old I am. At least a teenager judging by my body, and younger than Berenice was. But that's all I know, all I can be certain of.

Again I feel hungry, I almost always am, but I think that I have to be careful with my food. I might be skinny, but I can't build up bad habits. Even if I could do with some chocolate, preferably in the form of ice cream. And I remember. This is Egypt, at least fifteen hundred years before America will be reached. At least fifteen centuries before chocolate. I am no longer home. This is no game, this is reality. I am in another world, one without all the things I care for. A tear wells up, no longer restrained by anything.


	6. Chapter 6: Djedefre's Starry Sky

The next day the journey continues, and I start to get horribly bored. After some time, I start getting the feeling that I've seen everything there is to be seen, everything looks the same. For the return trip, I will demand something to read. They are bound to have something in the towns, and I would honestly consider going for bad poetry, everything is better than the boredom. I was told that a priest will be brought aboard at the next port, where supplies will also be taken on, which at least gives me some time to work on a dream.

Suddenly, I notice something on the horizon, a dune rising from the desert, but without curvature. It is angled, and almost immediately I know what it is. The thing everyone associates the most with Egypt. A pyramid. It is beautiful, even if it looks like the top is missing. Perhaps it has partially collapsed. Some time later, more come within view, all on what to me is the right side of the Nile. More and more branches come together, and the river becomes ever wider. It doesn’t look like the river is flooded though, there are fields by the side, filled with growing crops. If my mind doesn’t fail me, this means that it isn’t summer, despite the awful heat.

Finally, the ships move to the shore, near a walled town of some sort. It looks like the whole local population has been gathered there, and they bow once they see me. I decide to stand up, despite the exhaustion that hasn't left me during the terrible night. I have to look like I care.

Men quickly move amphoras, and carry on new ones. The amount of water that will be needed for the rowers alone will be enormous. The same happens on the other ship, with the exception that a man in white steps from one of them, and heads towards mine. He is led towards me, and a man declares: "Lysimachos, the priest of Apollo Loxias approaches!"

I turn towards the priest who immediately bows: „Holy Majesty, I was told that you desire my services?“

"Yes. I do."

A moment later, I am back at my usual resting place, surrounded by servants, and the priest. He asks: "I beg of you, so I may use the wisdom granted to me by my studies in the temple of the Delphic Apollo, tell me what you saw in your sleep, Holy Majesty."

I take a sip of water before I reply, ordering my thoughts. "I saw an elephant, flying through the sky. From this elephant, blood rained down on the earth, and wherever it hit, plants withered and rotted, animals died and turned to bone. And the same happened to people."

Lysimachos pulls his beard, looking thoughtful. "The elephant’s blood can be split into to parts, the first of pity, the second of appearing. So the elephant is the appearance of pity or compassion. It flies, so it is over the lands, meaning that all experience this appearance of pity. But, the pity is harmful, it is too large, as is shown by the elephant. That causes suffering to spread. Holy Majesty, I believe that that is what your dream means. You must not let the pity of your womanly heart overcome your queenly duties, or disaster will follow."

I feel a little relieved, this looks like enough of a safe interpretation to me. I nod: "Thank you for easing the burden on my heart."

A short while later, the small fleet departs again, and the priest has also left. I fear that he might send a message to Alexandria, but there is little that I can say. I will have to think of more dreams in advance, just in case. There is no reason to not do so.

With the music of the flutes the galley keeps going, until the sun starts to go lower again. We pass by many small towns and hundreds of villages, but then I see something else. A city. Not as large as Alexandria, but with white walls and tall obelisks rising above them, along with other structures. The architecture is completely different from that of Alexandria, and it almost breathes age. At the walls, I can see tiny people, presumably looking on at my arrival. I sit upright, feeling the servants applying fresh colours to my face. I must look perfect here, even though I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Hopefully, I will be given an explanation.

The rowers seem to slow down as we approach the port, and the other two ships pass mine, racing for the shore. I see men on the decks, armed men with helmets glittering in the sun. They dock first, around where I suppose I will have to get off, and the men march off, forming up around the central pier. It is busy, I see men dressed in white there, some of them around what looks like another litter, coated in blue and gold, with a chair, so I will have to sit up. The armrests are shaped like winged sphinxes, which flow into the back. There is no covering, so I will be in the full sunlight. The soldiers form up around it, presumably to protect me. I don’t know if the priests here are loyal to Berenice, so I will have to be careful.

As the galley touches the shore, I can hear cheering and music. This is a festive occasion then. I briefly wonder how much it will cost, because the debt situation is rather horrible. But maybe the priests are paying for this. I stand up, walking towards the plank that is readied for me. Naturally, I try to stride, to look important and confident, unlike how I am feeling. I feel my heart clench, I can’t mess up, I can’t ruin this.

The moment I step onto the ancient stones, I see them bow. All of them, thousands and thousands of people, all going to their knees before me. I force myself to smile, to at least appear happy. But not too much, I don’t want to look like some sort of fool. It is frightening, so many eyes on me. This is different from a conference presentation, here people actually pay attention to me, instead of sitting there, pretending to listen while waiting for food. Here, I am the main attraction.

I go slowly, heading for the nearby chair. Several bald men, dressed in white and gold, and wearing ornate headpieces, bow their heads as they stand up. The man who I assume to be their leader, he stands in the middle wearing a panther skin and what looks like a wig with a side lick, speaks solemnly: "Holy Majesty, we welcome you to this ancient city. We take great joy in standing in your radiant presence, o goddess."

He speaks Greek, of course he does, Father essentially said that he doesn't speak Egyptian, but I do. I guess that I can, I could read the hieroglyphics. I can even formulate the words in my head, even though I never knew more than a few very basic things. It takes mere moments before I decide to reply in the tongue of this land: "We are most pleased by the sight of this great city and the faithfulness of its people."

A gasp passes through the crowd, and I notice a hint of shock on the faces of the welcoming committee. Good, that should give me an advantage. It is silent for a few moments, until one of them, an old man with very bushy eyebrows asks with some hesitation, in Egyptian: "Divine Majesty, may we address you in the tongue of the gods?"

"Your doing so would bring great pleasure to our heart," I reply, feeling some sort of confidence, but also the all too familiar self-loathing.

The central one, who is a bit younger, around thirty-five I'd say, and rather short, just a little taller than I am continues: "Divine Majesty, we beg of you, grant us the honour of your presence in the holiest and greatest of the temples of Ptah, the creator."

"We would gladly enter the temple of the great god," I reply, hoping that I haven't mixed up my mythology.

"We humbly beg Your Divine Majesty to seat yourself, so your loyal servants may bear you into the home of the god," he declares, looking at my feet. No one looks into my eyes I notice, as though it's not allowed. Not in public at least.

Naturally, I do as they ask, I sit down on the throne. It is awfully decadent, but it's better than having to walk. It is well-made, I have to admit that, but I get the feeling that it's rather old, even though it is well-maintained. The wood creaks as I am lifted up by a dozen strong men, but the sound is drowned out by the music of flutes and drums.

They carry me up a slope, rising towards the walled city, which lies high above where the river should rise in the summer. As I come closer to the actual city, I hear more and more cheering, which soon almost drowns out the music. The few soldiers don't look like they're at ease, they won't have a great opinion of the natives. But they are important, they must still form the vast majority of the population, and that means that that's where my chance lies. Even if I am Greek.

By my side, the priests walk, along with musicians, soldiers, and what look like lesser priests. We pass through a white gate, which gleams in the sun. From atop it, flowers are thrown, adding to the festive atmosphere. I knew that royalty is important, but this seems like it is a bit much really.

Inside the city, I can see many simple houses, but everything that faces the wide street is painted white, or with simple figures. Ahead, I can see a massive building, with two obelisks by a large doorway. The roofs are filled with people, as are the sides of the road, which actually is paved. My carriers slow down, slowly passing the crowds. I smile at them, looking at the people, rich and poor. But mostly poor. They bow at the moment I pass, and they cheer. This must be a true spectacle for them, even if I don't know how to react, so I remain as I am, sitting, smiling and looking. It is hot in the sun, I can feel it burning in my skin and the sweating worsens. I start to long for the inside again, even if I don't allow myself to show my discomfort. I will have to force myself to get used to this, even if it's far from pleasant.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity in the centre of attention, I am carried up the marble steps of the temple, and into the shadow of its gates. I am lowered to the ground, and the priests again kneel in front of me. The wigged high priest speaks again: "Divine Majesty, as the Greatest of the Masters of the Craftsman it is my honour to invite you to enter the temple of Ptah, Sekhmet and Nefertem to unite your divine glory with theirs."

I assume that this is my cue to follow them, and I stand up. The priests rise, one of them, one carrying a golden staff, remains facing me, the others move to the sides. As I step forwards, the staff-bearer walks backwards and the others fall in behind me. After we pass under the gates, which are carried by statues of what look like kings, I hear a soft commotion behind me. Strangely enough, it's in Greek.

When I turn around, I see the leader of my guard arguing with some priests who are apparently trying to prevent his entrance, and that of his men.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demand.

All of them speak through each other, clearly offended. "The captain of my guards will speak first."

"Thank you, Holy Majesty, your father, the king, gave us the command to never leave you, and so we must follow. And now these barbarians are stopping us," He speaks quickly, and not just with anger. There also is a hint of fear.

"And why are these men stopped?", I ask next.

"Divine Majesty, your guards are not inducted in the mysteries, and only those who have been ordained, who have said the prayers, and who have made the sacrifices may pass through the doors of the Temple-South-Of-His-Wall."

Darn. I either have to insult my guards, or I have to insult the priests. I think for a few moments, if the priests want me dead, the few guards can't save me. And so the decision is made. "My father intended for you to accompany me to this place, and to accompany me when I go outside, where threats may lurk. This is a temple, and none will dare to bring violence into the home of such an ancient god. I ask of you, to await my return here, to rest from your journey until your services are needed again."

He bows his head, even if some anger remains: "As you will it, Holy Majesty."


	7. Chapter 7: The Chamber of Tutu

The shade of the temple is comforting, it is much darker than outside, and when the great doors are closed behind me, it almost becomes hard to see, despite all the lamps around me. The cheers can no longer be heard, and instead I hear a droning sound of singing voices, but the words remain indistinct. I keep following the backwards-walking priest, feeling a little afraid. I don't know what is to happen, only that it's secret.

After what feels like minutes we reach another chamber, with painted walls in the Egyptian style. Some of the gods are easy to recognise, just like figures representing kings. They are shown making sacrifices, passing decrees, and once even striking down a man. Curiously enough, no queen is shown.

I hear something like the ringing of dozens of small bells, and enter behind my guide, feeling a little amazed that he manages to walk this whole way backwards without ever even looking. Once inside, I can't stop myself and look around. At the wall behind me, there are women, about a dozen. Some of them are shaking metal, I would guess bronze, hoops with rings around them, the sources of the sounds, and all of them intone prayers. The air is heavy with incense, making it a hard to breathe. I never liked the smell, but I can't really complain to anyone.

I start to feel thirsty, almost wishing to be back on the ship, if it weren't for the striking beauty of this place. I have the feeling that I should already know what will happen, what I'm supposed to do, but frankly, I don't have a clue.

There is a strange structure in the middle of the room, like a bed resting on the legs of what looks like a bull. But it is slanted, with a plank at one end, and what looks like a small, but soft, table on the other. One oft the women bows: "Holy Majesty, we beg you, position for rest, for taking of augurs."

I do feel tired, not that that says anything, I constantly feel tired. I can hardly sleep, but still, I want nothing more than some rest. But then it strikes me, the priestess used Greek. She doesn't know yet. I reply in Egyptian as I lie down: "I am ready."

I suppress a smile at her startled reaction. At the same time, I feel a little sorry. She is so young, and doesn't seem too intelligent even. Hence the poor Greek. But still, she seems to hold an important position. I look closer, she's barely a teenager! What is wrong here? She shouldn't be taking such a role. But then I remember. The positions in the priesthood were inherited. I'm lucky that none of the important roles are in the hands of a toddler.

The air is heavy, filled with incense. I close my eyes, it seems that I have to sleep. It seems a little strange, but one never knows. If only it was allowed to sleep through services in church, that would have been so much better. I hear them all leave, the chanting and ringing die away, leaving me all alone. I can't resist the temptation, and open my eyes, to take in my surroundings. I always loved to see pictures of this style, and of course, often went to various museums to see them. But this is different. There might not be very much light, but still I see the beautiful paintings on the wall. As though they were made only yesterday. I take in the scenes, all the kings and their triumphs. The moment is disturbed by one little thing, I feel my stomach growl, and I wasn't given any kind of food.

I don't understand, one moment, I was all alone in the painted room, in the sparse light of the lamps, and now I am, I don't know where I am. It is light, in a way, but still I can't see far, all the light is blocked by a thick dark fog. But around me, everything is clear. There is no sound, not even that dreadful singing. I can't even hear my heart or my breathing. Nothing at all. I look down, and hear my first sound, a scream. My scream. It comes before I even understand what I see. My body. It's gone. Or, rather, it's wrong. Horribly wrong. I see feathers, and looking further down. No. The legs of a bird. I turn, to get a better look. Am I a bird? No. That's impossible. But, I can feel it. I stretch my arm, or what should be my arm at least. I see a wing, covered in white feathers. What's wrong with me? This can't be acid or anything, I took nothing at all, and even then, I wouldn't see this. This makes no sense. A dream? That has to be it, but I've never felt, well, this thoughtful in one. Of course, I've read about lucid dreaming, but this feels different. Or maybe I finally succeeded in it? This simply can't be real. But then again, being an ancient Egyptian queen also doesn't seem that realistic. But even then, compared to this that at least is completely sane.

Unsure of what to do, I move my arms. I don't know how they should work. I don't fall, but nothing changes, until I bring them back to my sides. Suddenly, my surroundings change.

I stand in a chamber of gold, surrounded by hundreds of gold-faced figures. I look at them, at the cloth that flutters in the soft breeze. They don't move, but they watch. They look at me, through dead painted eyes. I know that they do. I can feel the stares. They scare me, and I look down. No longer a bird, I am me. The real me, dressed in white. I hate wearing white, it just doesn't fit with my skin, but here I am, with shaking legs and weak knees.

Again I hear the ringing of bronze on bronze, and a figure appears, at the far end of the room. On top of a staircase. It's a woman, but also not a woman. She wears a long red dress, even though her belly is uncovered. The skin seems to radiate, but my attention is drawn to her headpiece. It looks like a tube, red as blood. On the top, it splits into two curls. I don't know how it remains balanced in place, it just stands on her head, on her beautiful black hair.

And she beckons me, with her hand. Without a word, I know that I have to obey. Somehow, I don't feel the ground, I feel nothing at all. I walk up the stairs, or rather, I glide, glad to leave the dead eyes behind. I don't dare to look back, and instead follow the woman. If she isn't more than just a human, she is bewitching in her beauty, and I can't look away.

I blink, and her body turns into a stone, a brick, while her head remains and she keeps going forward. I however stop, refusing to believe my eyes. Somehow, she turns around, looking into my eyes. Her face remains serene as she speaks: "Daughter of drowned lands, do you not know? Have time and distance wrought such destruction? Follow, and everything will be illuminated. Do not linger in the passage of birth, it brings great pain to my heart."

Her voice, it is magical, beyond any I have ever heard, pure and filling. I want to say something, but can't. I only obey, and follow, convinced that all sanity has left me. After some more steps, she is human again, walking but never touching the ground.

The hallway ends, and my guide disappears. She just isn't there anymore. One moment she was, and the next she wasn't. Above me I can see the stars, below me, the ground looks like it is made of crystals, endless crystals, scattering the light all around them. It is endless, stretching as far as I can see. There is no sign of life, no clouds, nothing at all. Just me, the crystals and the sky. I kneel down, looking. The crystals are large, if they were protein that is. They would be small for everything else. I see them, knowing the familiar and oh so elusive shapes. There is no sound, not even a crunch as I kneel, until there is a sound like thunder, and I am blinded by light. I raise my hands, to shield my eyes, but the radiance passes right through them and my eyelids. It is like looking into the sun, and there is no escape from the light.

But despite that, I see shapes, dark, like an oasis of respite. They seem human, in a way. But I can't see clearly. I hear voices, echoing through my head. The first is deep and fatherly: "Rise, scholar."

The second is a growl: "Rise, harlot."

But I can't, I can't move as more and more voices add their commands: "Rise, daughter."

"Rise, scribe."

"Rise, virgin."

"Rise, conqueror."

"Rise, unbeliever."

"Rise, priestess"


	8. Chapter 8: Passing through Duat

Chapter 8: Passing through Duat

Rubbing my eyes, I force myself to my feet. I feel heavy, much heavier than normal, but at least I get the idea that I can see. Just vague shapes in a far too bright world. For the first time, I feel something below me, the ground touching my bare feet. It feels like sand, but it’s not burning hot like it so often is at the beach. “Who, who are you?”

“We are those who are present in the world. We are the foundations of all that is. We are the order that pervades. We are justice.”, the booming voice replies. It comes from right in front of me, from the roughly human shape there. My whole surroundings smell like incense, that awful sickening smell.

My head is still spinning, and I struggle to keep myself coherent. Despite that, I have to continue, to find out what this all is. “You are gods?”

A woman replies: “In a way. We are those who are, who have been, and who will be.”

“But we have dreamt”, another adds, “and we saw our blessed land, bowing to the worship of foreign gods.”

“The Black Ground taken from us, from the proper rituals of our worship.”

“The ka of Kesmet fades, to be ridiculed by foreigners.”, the growl adds.

“And with it, we are no more.”

They must be gods then, there is no other explanation. Or, actually, there is one. I am going crazy. It might explain this quite well. I am mad, and all of this is just a hallucination. I try to focus my thoughts, it’s useless if I just lose myself to my mind, and forget my surroundings. Gods. Actual gods. It explains how I got here at least. And that I should be very careful. “I understand. Were you, ehm, were you the ones who brought me here?”

“Your ka was called, to serve.”, the growling voice replies, “Your heart is heavy with sin and evil. You deserve to be devoured, purged from the mortal and the immortal worlds.”

“But that was not decided.” the fatherly voice adds, “You bear wisdom within you, besides your evil. Wisdom that is needed.”

“You were chosen, daughter of a priest.”, a woman cuts in, “You must be the queen. Do not fail, you may still be devoured.”

“But, how?” I ask. “I’m just a girl.”

“Do not make us doubt.” The growl becomes fiercer, almost hateful. I feel fear well up in me, but somehow remain standing as I was. “You were chosen, and you will perform your task, or you will feed Ammit.”

I have no clue what he’s referring to, but it sounds bad. Better not to ask more about that. “I, ehm, I will do my best. I promise. But, could you do a little something to help out?”

“This task was set to you”, a higher-pitched woman replies, “And it is for you to complete it.”

“You are Cleopatra, you are the queen of Upper and Lower Egypt. That alone must suffice.”

I want to deny it. It isn’t enough. I need some sort of help. But I find that I don’t have the courage to go against them. In fact, I start having the idea that they are rather unpleasant beings, making me live like this. “I understand. But why did you bring me here? I mean, to this place and time, meeting with you.”

“So you may know that you were called. That you must serve.”

“And that you may never fail.”

“And do not choose death, it will offer no relief, you will be devoured.”

I swallow, feeling the little bit of courage that I had gathered fade again.

“Be the queen. Show our people the way, and you will be rewarded. You will be one of us.”

The last words echo through my head as I feel myself waking up. Something is wrong. My head feels like it is about to burst open, my eyes are on fire, and there is this terrible noise in my ears, like a whistle that never stops. I try to think, but it’s hard. Harder than it used to. I just can’t focus, my thoughts keep turning to all sorts of things. Things that I honestly didn’t know that I knew. Faces, connected with names. But I shouldn’t know them. I don’t know them. Animals too, ones that I was unfamiliar with.

I want to shout, to scream, to make noise. But I don’t dare to. I’m in the temple, in this room. All alone. I have to endure this night, to be the true queen. Argh, I want to think, I have to make a plan. They want me to, and those thoughts alone frighten me. Was it even real? Or am I simply insane, or did the incense go to my head? It almost has to be. There are no gods. The world won’t make sense with them. But then again, it also doesn’t make any sense that I ended up here.

It’s still dark, and I presume that it’s still night. I can’t have slept for very long, but I feel too awake to stay resting. My body might be weak, but I can’t sit still. I stand up, and start to walk through the room. Things make more sense to me now, I know all the figures somehow, I know their meaning, the individual gods and ancient kings. As I walk, my head starts to feel better, the pain subsides, and I can think. I try to make a plan, but suddenly, I find that things become more and more difficult. Names race through my head, ones that are familiar, but which I’d swear that I never knew at all. Always when I try to focus, there are more. More people to take into account if I ever want to make a plan. Why is this so complicated?


	9. Chapter 9: Off the Bed of Dreams

Chapter 9: Off the Bed of Dreams

In the distance, I hear voices. It must be almost day then, but I fear that I’m not yet ready to face them, or anyone for that matter. I need some time on my own, more than some actually. I have to put some order to my thoughts, I’m not a computer where you can just put things in and it will cope. I’m a human being. Or at least, that’s what I thought. I’m not so certain anymore. I have all these things in my head, facts, and more. Facts are easy. They are just knowledge, there is no emotional baggage to them, nothing at all. Just naked knowledge, the kind that I have always liked.

But this is different. I have started to remember things. Things that I can’t know. Memories of places I have never been, people I have spoken to, but have never seen. I wish that I could shut it out, but I can’t. I remember more and more. It works its way into my consciousness, worming through my thoughts. I need to focus, but I can’t, my head is filled with distractions. I blink, and I see fragments in front of my eyes. Foreign streets, strange places. I see things I wish I would never see, and tears well up again. This is too much. I can’t stand it, the smells, the sights, the sounds.

The singing comes closer, I have to do something about this. I can’t be seen as some wreck. If only I had a mirror, then I could do something about my face. Not much, but now everything feels smeared by the tears and sweat. I feel my hair, and quickly move it into some semblance of order. I have to be presentable. I don’t want anyone to know what I saw. What I still see. All these awful memories that aren’t mine. That can’t be mine.

With my hair a little straighter, I sit perfectly upright. Waiting. I focus on my breathing, it has helped me before, to calm myself before speaking to people. Breathing in and out, the sole focus of my mind. Slowly, I regain some measure of control, and close my eyes for a moment, putting a smile on my face, and into my eyes. I touch my lashes with the tips of my fingers, breathing a few more times. Finally, I move them to my sides, seeming what I must be. Happy and calm, even if I am neither.

I open my eyes, forcing myself to not look at the entrance. There is no need for that, I am supposed to be the queen. They can come to me, even if I would rather be polite. I can’t. I have to be regal and arrogant, it’s what is expected of me. Somehow, I know that too. The newcomers bring more light with them, and it burns through my head, as though it will split open. I need water, at the very least. At long last, there is a voice, a woman’s: “Divine Majesty, we bow to you, and beg that you will receive these offerings of bread and water.”

Finally, I turn to face them. It is a group of women, some of them carrying bowls, others carry candles, and others still carry cloth packages. The speaker however carries nothing. All of them are on their knees, and look up towards me. I still smile and reply: “We thank you for your hospitality, and will gladly partake of bread and water.”

Speaking hurts a little, my throat is far too dry. I also have to go to the bathroom, but unfortunately don’t really see an opportunity for that. Instead, I push my legs together, hoping for the best. But at the very least, I can finally drink a little. Only when the cup reaches my lips and the first water feels like it’s absorbed by them does a thought rise in my head. What if it’s poison?

It doesn’t matter. If it is, I am doomed anyways, and I cannot just refuse to eat and drink. It would only kill me faster than any poison would. But I have to get a taster. I should have one. Or multiple. But, they wouldn’t taste the poison, and just end up dying later, alongside me. It’s not like they would just drop dead after the first bite. That isn’t how it works.

My mind wanders again, and I focus, drinking a little more of the water. A bit too eagerly, the cup is drained. I should show more control. I take some bread, the loaf is shaped like a man, and is quite heavy for its size. It is rather thick, not very airy or fluffy, and tastes very nutty. It’s still warm, and given the texture, I suspect that it becomes hard and crusty very fast. Which I somehow also already knew. I feel like hitting my head, but that would look wrong. Instead, I just keep eating.

Earlier, I felt hunger, but now I feel how bad it actually is. I have to force myself to eat calmly and slowly, I want to devour the bread. At the same time, I feel a little sick, sick with hunger. Somehow, I think that I manage to hide it all, but I can’t be sure of that. All I know is that no one gives any sign of knowing. But, that could also just be because they aren’t supposed to show anything.

When I am finished, most of them bow and leave, and only one woman stays. The leader of this group, the speaker. “Divine Majesty, it is my honour to hear your words for the portents to be read by the Cheriheb. How did the Ba travel while you came awake?”

Somehow, I have some idea about what she means. She asks about my dreams. I remember that I should have said a prayer before sleeping, which I naturally didn’t. Having no clue about it. And of course, my ancestors probably also didn’t, and just made up a few things. Which I will also have to do. I remember a few things about omens, and so I begin: “I dreamt that I soared in the form of an eagle, flying over the sea, before reaching the coast. I could see the land approaching, with the widely-branching river. I followed it, seeing the cities and ships. I went further and further south, passing fortresses too, before turning around, and landing on a pyramid-shaped stone.”

The woman nods attentively, I still don’t know her name, but she does seem important. I don’t know what my predecessors made up, because they were bound to do that. Unless they actually believed in prophecy. I am doubting it, but don’t dare to tell the truth. I’m not that insane. At most, I’m just hallucinating all this.

“What did you see, Divine Majesty?”

“I can’t explain it, or even describe it. But I saw that the land had changed from when I flew over it before. From what I have seen on the ship here. There were more ships, and not only those carrying goods. There were great ships with wheels by their sides, where the grain was taken to be crushed. There were other ships as well, ships of war driven by many oars. There were so many things, and there was a voice, speaking in a way that almost was beyond me.”

She looks confused, but notes down what I’m saying. I think that I should have left out the voice, in hindsight. “What did the voice say?”

“You are Cleopatra. And to you I grant this land, its enemies will not prevail against you.”


	10. Chapter 10: Two Powerful Ones

Chapter 10: Two Powerful Ones

After taking down what I told her, the priestess departs, to be replaced by another pair dressed in white linen. One of them is just a girl, at most she’s twelve, and the other looks like she’s her mother. They both bow deeply, before the older one speaks: “Divine Majesty, we beg of you, accompany us for the final cleansing.”

I suppress a shiver, the word final puts a doubt in me. I don’t recall anything about sacrifice or anything like that, but one never knows. It’s better to be careful, even if I don’t think that my father will have me murdered. Not yet at least, but he will do it should I prove dangerous. I might have to be first then. Hopefully, I will manage to do it, or to have someone do it for me. That would be better, I don’t want to take too much in the way of risk.

But despite my thoughts, I stand up, following the two. It makes me aware of just how young I am, only just fourteen. I try to remember recent events, which I somehow know now. Caesar is in Gaul, and has been there for a few years now. That means that I have at most six years before the civil wars start. Probably less than that. But at least Crassus is still in Rome, so there is some time left.

As soon as we leave the room, more priestesses join, singing and playing instruments. The smell of incense washes over me, and I start to feel weak again. I hate that smell. But still, I walk, I wish that I could be carried, that’s so much more comfortable, at least it’s not sunny inside. We reach something like a courtyard, and as soon as I am outside, I can feel the heat. It’s downright terrible. The sun hasn’t been up for that long, I am still in the shadow, but it is warm. I can see it burning on the walls, and if it would have been later, it would have been burning on the sand of the floors. There are statues at the wall, and engraved and painted writings. They are all about purity, purification, and cleanliness. I merely glance at them, my eyes are drawn to the centre. There are basins, and one in particular stands out. It is made of black granite, set with gold and what looks like blue glass. More priestesses stand next to it.

I quickly look around, and relax a little. There are no eunuchs or men around. I can do this. The two who accompanied me pull off my clothes, leaving me almost naked here, in front of all these strangers. Luckily, it’s something that I am at least a little used to.

“O Divine Majesty”, a priestess starts, “we invite you to wash off the impurities of the world, to be cleansed for the presence of the gods.”

Naturally, I walk forwards, towards the basin, wearing only my sandals. I can feel the eyes on me, on my thin body. I know that I’m ugly, a freak almost. But given my age, that doesn’t say too much. I myself also changed significantly. But still, I feel the looks, the silent judgement. This will be a topic, like in the dressing room at school. I always hated that, the other girls, looking at me, while I tried to avoid looking, and of course, hoped to avoid showing any kind of sign of myself.

This is different in a way. They hold power over me, but I also hold a power over them. Not over the collective. I can’t do anything to the institutions of the priesthood. But if I ever manage to take the throne for myself, then each and every individual is but an insect. They already are. If I tell my father that one of them insulted me, she will lose everything. It feels strange, they know it. They judge, but at the same time, they fear. They fear my words, my position. But most of all, they fear my father. He started his return with blood, and that must already be known here. He killed his own flesh and blood. Such a man doesn’t hesitate when it comes to others.

When I reach the basin, I am helped from my sandals, while priestesses sing, play music and dance around me. It must be quite a spectacle for observers. I am helped into the water, it’s a little warm, but not too unpleasantly. They lower me, luckily, I don’t weigh too much, but it’s deep, and I shiver when it reaches my lower parts, I always hate that, and I sink a little deeper before touching the bottom. It is clean, very clean even, and I almost feel bad for polluting it with my presence. But that’s the point I guess. I shouldn’t be smelly and sweaty.

I don’t want to go deeper, but feel a slight force on my shoulders. I have to, and so, I go through my knees, slowly, I can’t do it quickly or I’ll scream. Or so my body tells myself. It brings a slight smile to my face, I know that it’s not true. In fact, I generally find that going quickly is better, just like with band-aids, only, no one ever does it. Only my head remains above the surface, and the priestess speaks again: “Divine Majesty, you must be fully submerged.”

I swallow, knowing how short of breath I am, but I close my eyes in preparation. After a deep breath, I allow myself to be pushed under. I feel a sudden fear. What if this is a trap? What if they try to drown me? I can’t trust them. I can’t trust anyone. But then I am pulled up again, not hearing much at first, only vaguely that they are chanting. I would kill for a Q-tip, my ears itch on the inside, but I can’t get them here.

A little later, I stand on the sand again, into fresh sandals and wearing pure white linen. I was washed, and now I am here. I don’t wear a crown however. None at all. It seems that I knew quite little about the Egyptian rituals, as though it was never considered to be important. That will have to change. I need the people, if I want to avoid what happened. I remember the night all too well. The words, the commands. It almost has to be at least a little bit real. And that has enormous implications. I could use help, but can’t count on it. And how is it possible that gods with actual power allowed such things to happen. Unless, of course, unless they don’t actually have that much in the way of power. Or worse, they were struggling with other gods, which means that I have to be very careful.

Dressed in white, accompanied by the singing and music, I head back into the temple complex. Once the doors open, priests join the procession, and the high priest, the one with the strange haircut, who I now know for sure to be the Sem Priest of Ptah, the high priest, walks by my side, or rather a little bit behind me. He seems a little nervous, he must have been told about my dream. And that means that I made a mistake. I went too far. I shouldn’t have said anything about being destined to rule, to be invincible. Or, perhaps, perhaps I should just talk to him. Start working on getting some support, so I can be rid of the knife on my throat.

I barely listen to the chanting, constantly remaining in thought. And, of course, observing people. Who looks important, who seems to be close to whom. All the things that are actually important. Not the religious chanting, the empty words and gestures. None of them truly matter. It’s about what they hide. For a moment I wonder if any of these priests have ever been in contact with the gods, they would say so, but I can’t know it.

We reach another set of gates, and a far smaller party continues. Somehow, they are the ones who seem to be of a higher rank. Only one of the priestesses remains, the one who spoke to me earlier. It only strikes me now, but she has a really wide mouth, it looks a bit strange, and far from pretty. Especially because she has such awfully small teeth. More like those of a child than of an adult. She speaks softly: “Divine Majesty, he who is great at directing the crafts begs you to come to hear his words, I shall, if it pleases Your Holiness, accompany you.”

I don’t fully understand, it might have been a bit silly of me to start speaking Egyptian while I don’t know everything yet. Especially where titles are concerned. But I presume this person who wants to talk to me to be an important priest of Ptah. “We shall hear his words.”

Two more gates later, more of the priests leave, and I am left with the three priests who welcomed me the day before. Not even the priestess remains with us. I presume that she isn’t important enough to be allowed to witness this.

One of them, the old man, opens another set of doors, made of bronze and gold. He bows deeply to whatever is inside, as do the other two. I however don’t follow their example. I don’t recall having to bow to any kind of god. I am the daughter of the king, and soon to be the queen. I simply stand there, until they move again. Then I enter.

The room is vividly painted, and in the center, there is a small statue, around two feet tall. Made of solid gold. I recognise who it depicts, Ptah. This is the heart of the temple, the secret place where none may ever come who have not been initiated. And me. The high priest starts to speak from behind me: “It is the king who sent me, O great god who created the land. I present your daughter, the goddess Cleopatra who is beloved of her father. The great lady of perfection, sacred image of her father, excellent in council.”

He then turns his words to me: “O Divine Majesty, great one. Let me initiate you into the presence of your father Ptah, creator of all that is.”

From the corners of my eyes, I notice that the other two are on their bellies, prostrating themselves. The Sem priest remains behind me, invoking: “O greatest of the craftsmen! O Ptah! Behold, your daughter, the pure one, the father loving and brother loving goddess, the lady of the land, the manifest goddess, great queen of the upper and lower lands, the divine Cleopatra. May she live forever.”

The final bit stirs a hope in me, perhaps... I feel something being placed on my head. It’s light, but I can’t see it. I only see hints of gold above my eyes, but I can’t see it clearly. The three priests now say in unison: “I worship your majesty with the chosen words, with the prayers that increase your prestige.”

I realise that I have to say something, but not even the new memories give any hint. I fear that my predecessors just mumbled something here, or didn’t even understand. As far as I know, none of them even spoke the language. But I can’t stay silent. I have to make an impression: “I am Cleopatra. The queen of Upper and Lower Egypt. I am the daughter of the god Ptolemy and the goddess Cleopatra. I will bring order where there is chaos, both within, and outside the borders. I shall erect temples for the worship of the true gods, shall defend the customs of the land, and bring prosperity to all. I shall heed the words that you have sent me, and will strengthen the kingdom.”


	11. Chapter 11: Lady of the Rites

A little later, I find myself alone with the high priest, and the small-toothed woman. Or girl. She isn’t that old yet, I’d estimate in her late teens. Which still makes her older than I am, being only fourteen. It’s a strange feeling, to know that I’m so young, just over half my real age. Or my old age? I don’t know how to call it, I just don’t have the words for it.

We are in a side-room, decorated with a king making sacrifices. A king wearing the famous double crown. I look at it for a few moments, knowing what it represents. It represents my father, and after him, whichever of my brothers succeeds him, and marries me. I have to find a solution to that issue, even if I don’t have it yet. Naturally, the current king has to be removed, he’s a monster, and somehow more importantly, he is a danger. All it takes is a word from him, and I will be joining Berenice, and all those others.

But at the same time, he is being protected. Not only by his own men, but also by the Romans. They want their money back, and, I suspect, they want control over Egypt, and the grain supply. My thoughts are disturbed when the priest speaks: “Divine Majesty, I have conferred with the most learned ones of the House of Life, to discern the will of the gods.”

I swallow. I had hoped that this could just be a formality. “Do tell me.”

“All are in agreement that you will rule over all of the land. That is clear. Your reign shall be long, but there are troubles, which shall be overcome. You have come from a foreign land, but you are Egyptian in your heart, that is what is meant. You will defend the borders against foreign influences. That is what the gods wished to show and tell you.”

He pauses, looking at me. “But, Divine Majesty, there is more. There was discussion about these things. Such as wheeled ships. Some of the learned men believe that these are like chariots, and that there will be a war fought on the sea. Others say that they mean that ships can travel where there is land, meaning truly great floods, where you will keep the proper order.”

He then bows his head again, speaking softly: “Divine Majesty. I have not spoken of what was said. I beg your understanding and forgiveness for that.”

I nod: “But I presume that you have an explanation?”

“Yes, Divine Majesty. And that is why I wished to speak like this. Such words, they mean things. More than one might directly assume. And some might see them as threats.”

“Yes, I understand that. But I couldn’t deceive. Not at that moment, as I hoped that they would reach you.”, I reply, sensing a slight opening.

“You have my sincerest vows that I shall never speak of it, and neither will my wife.”, he replies, making me feel a little sick. She is so young, he looks like he’s somewhere in his thirties. For a moment, I wonder how long they have been married. But that’s not relevant now.

“You have my gratitude for that.”, I say, wanting one of them to make the first real move. I’m not going to throw everything away that easily. Although, I could obviously tell my dearest father that the priests are treacherous, and have to be dealt with. But still, it would be dangerous.

“Divine Majesty, if I may be the one to speak”, the girl whispers, I nod, to signify that she may proceed: “the words, they trouble me, and they trouble my husband.”

“Are you absolutely certain that it spoke of you, and not of your father, or your brother?”

He has me. They have me. I should have been more careful. I have to decide now, tell them that I lied, which destroys my position, and puts me at their mercy, or bluff on. Before knowingly settling the issue in my mind, I answer: “I said it as I heard it spoken. I am not mistaken.”

Unintentionally, there is a mild rebuke in my voice, I hope that they don’t take it as an insult. To salvage something, I continue: “I fear that there might come a time that I must rule. My brothers are young, and my father...”

“I know, Divine Majesty, your father is an old man, beset by many troubles. Every day we pray and sacrifice that he may live forever.”

“And for that you have my gratitude, and his.”, I say, going with his clear lie, “But the most terrible things can happen, and as you said, he has many enemies. And sees many as well.”

I notice a slight shock, and look into the priest’s eyes. He quickly looks away, and the priestess adds: “My husband, he, he placed a crown, such as the one you wear now, on the head of your sister.”

Inwardly I smile. Now I know what to do. They are afraid: “And my father is aware of that. I do not know what you know, but on our return to Alexandria, he took her head. Along with that of many who had aided her in any way, from the lowliest of the servants. He seeks revenge.”

Both lose a little colour, and I continue: “He was restrained from shedding more blood by his new allies, the Romans. They are hungry for gold, and killing the servants gave them none. But there are those with wealth, and that is what they seek as their reward.”

She swallows, but he maintains a little more composure at my words: “That, that means us, doesn’t it?”

“There are those who whisper that priests who weren’t perfectly loyal during my father’s exile should be punished, and have their property seized. But so far, his attentions are focused on those close to him. In Alexandria.”

Again, the threat should be clear. Both remain silent, giving me some time to observe. Neither seems to be all that intelligent, which makes sense. They only have their positions because of their birth. Not because of any real ability. That should. No, I shouldn’t think that they are easy to deal with because of that. They could just as well be feigning.

“But”, the priest begins again, “he is divine. It was a mistake.”

“Yes. I know that. But he doesn’t. And he is surrounded by those who lust for gold.”

“Is that why the gods chose you?”, the girl asks.

“It might be. I know that it is my task to protect the people, the land, and its customs. And that is what I will do.”

“I, I fear that I did not tell you everything, Divine Majesty”, the priest begins again, clearly sweating now, “In the House of Life I did ask if any of your Ancestors was ever spoken to. Only of a few is this known. The Great Ancestor was spoken to before his coronation, but those words are kept in Thebes. Aside from him, they could name three others. But I beg your forgiveness, I remember only one of them. The god Philadelphus.”

“I understand, you have many things to remember. But what else did they say?”

“I did not ask, Divine Majesty, but they said that the gods only speak to the one they have chosen.”

I smile a little: “Then I must have been chosen to rule, wouldn’t you agree?”

Both nod, and I continue: “If I have been chosen, I would naturally be the Pharaoh, wouldn’t you agree?”

They nod again, after a slight hesitation: “Yes, Divine Majesty. But, there, there already is a Pharaoh.”

“Perhaps this means that this Pharaoh no longer has the blessing of the gods, and therefore no longer is the real Pharaoh.”, I know that it might be a little too fast, but I can’t go back now. Instead, I push on. “And if that is the case, it is the duty of all righteous men and women to assist in installing the real Pharaoh. ”

“Yes, Divine Majesty.”, he replies, sounding frightened.

“Of course, that lies in the future. For now I merely ask for your support, and assistance, when the time comes to ask for it. I shall do my utmost to protect the priesthoods, but, to do that, I might have to ask for minor boons.”

He bows: “As you will it, Divine Majesty.”


	12. Chapter 12: Daughter of the God

My heart beats in my throat as the gilded doors are opened for me. I'm afraid, even though I am the queen of Egypt, and more than that, have been declared to be the goddess Isis. But I feel only fear. It's not caused by foreigners, no, It's caused by an overweight old man, who reclines in the room in front of me, looking out over the port, and the famous tower of Pharos, the tallest in the known world.

I try not to show anything as I approach the king, or at least, nothing negative. As soon as my ship arrived, the messenger was there, with the invitation, or the command, depending on ones perspective, to come visit him. The Pharaoh. He might not look too impressive, but I have seen his face when he murdered so many. I don't even want to know how much blood has been spilled in my absence, but it has to be a lot. There was a haze of fear hanging over the city, and there were soldiers everywhere, even with most of the Roman army encamped outside the city walls. They could sack the city if they wished to, there are no real defenders.

Of course, my father has his men out there, but they are no match to the Romans. They're just there to keep some sort of order. It is strange, just a few days ago there was this demonstration of my power, the coronation, the tour on a golden chariot to the temple of Isis, where I was declared to be her, and the way back, floating down the Nile. Everything seemed so peaceful, I felt so confident. But here, back in Alexandria, I only feel fear.

"Cleopatra! My divine daughter! How kind of you to come and visit me. Do come, and tell your father all about your journey."

I approach, and recline on the bed next to him. Father seems to be in a good mood, he looks happy. The slave, a boy, by his side, takes a sip from a golden cup before passing it to the king. A precaution against poison that means that one of my more simple plans is gone. But there are more ways to poison a king. He will be poisoned, unless another way to remove him comes up.

Another boy, I would guess him to be twelve or so, at most, offers me a cup, after again taking a sip for me. Naturally I accept, forcing myself to otherwise ignore him. It starts becoming easier, even though it makes me a worse person. But so do my other plans.

Father raises his cup: "To a long and enjoyable reign, my queen!"

I reply: "To a long and enjoyable reign, my king!"

Of course, drinking wine isn't good for me, I'm young, and should avoid alcohol as much as I can. Fortunately, we're not barbarians, so It's diluted. But still, it's bad for the young brain. The taste however is good, I have had better, of course, undiluted the taste is much richer, and in over two thousand years some improvements are bound to have been made. I would however rate it quite highly.

"Now, do tell me, how was your journey?"

I can't tell the truth, but at the same time, lying can be dangerous. Perhaps he already knows about the priests, and he's just playing with me now. But then again, admitting it would mean losing the only few potential allies that I've managed to make. Not something to risk, and it would also arouse his suspicions. It's better to not say anything. But what if he already knows? Then he'll know that I know that he knows. Or something like that. It's too dangerous to mention it, and so I reply: "It was wonderful, it's not every day that one if crowned, proclaimed a goddess, and meets the creator of the world."

"Oh yes. When I was there it was a grand festival, but that was after giving them years to prepare. I hope that you didn't give those stuffy priests too much of a shock."

"I think that they coped, they must have done it a thousand times already."

"Hahaha!", he laughs, which might mean that I can keep my head for a little longer. "Yes, that's all they ever care for. Tradition. What did they tell you?"

"Only endless prayers and invocations. But what truly stood out was how they looked when I spoke to them in their own language."

I can believe that", his smile widens, "But it remains a silly waste of your time. I told you that, and not just once! Even in Rome and in Ephesus, you kept up with those lessons, while the language no longer matters. You should have focused on Latin."

"I speak that as well, I learned it at the same time.", I defend myself.

"Even then, it's useless. None of my forefathers knew the tongue of the natives, and they had long reigns and brought glory to their names."

"Yes, they did. But they didn't ignore them.", I should be careful, I have this tendency to be drawn into discussions, and that's not the path to follow with a murderous psychopath.

"All they need is the occasional ceremony and festival. They're not a great power, they no longer rule the world."

"Yes. Alexander took the world, and we are his heirs."

His smile fades: "We are the last heirs of Alexander, all the rest of what he built is gone. Fallen to petty kings, the Medes, and Latins. Even we no longer rule the world."

I swallow, not having expected this. "We don't rule the world, but you are the king of the oldest realm in the world, you rule from its greatest city, and have wealth that others can only dream of."

"Even then, I have told you before, we are no longer free. You saw what happened. One army, that's all it took. The days of our strength are gone, Cleopatra, I am a king, yes, but not a real king, not like my ancestors were.", He sounds sad, which, in my experience, can be dangerous.

"The Romans indeed have the greater army. Should they choose to, they could end us. But that is now, and things may well change. We can't fight them in the field, but there are other strengths we have. They can't risk losing the grain. They would starve.", An idea starts to form in my head, or rather, it comes to the fore again. Now I only have to convince him of it. And myself.

"That is true, but many are ambitious enough to risk it. If we present a threat, they will fight."

"That is all too true, and that means that we must pay the debt."

"Yes." He sighs, "All ten thousand talents of gold. And it must be paid quickly, or it will consume us."

I take another sip of the wine, looking into Father's eyes: "Could we perhaps speak alone for a few moments?"

"Oh!", He exclaims, "Of course we can. You! All of you! Go."

The boys obey, almost running from the room. For a few moments I look outside, over the great port, over the great ships, and to the lighthouse, the greatest tower in the world. And then the doors close. I feel like I've been pasted to my bench and my heard is racing in my chest. I try to force myself to stay calm, but it is difficult.

The king sighs: "And so my lovely cupbearers are gone from our sight. It is such a shame how they grow older, wouldn't you say?"

"It is", I reply, not really knowing what to say.

"But rather than speaking of what you took away from your loving father, tell me, why did you take one of his few pleasures?"

Luckily, they left my cup, and I take a slow sip to gain a little time to think. "Because I do not want anyone to know, and one of them could very well talk."

"Ah yes, secrecy, the one thing we don't have. What is so secret then that it must be kept so?"

"On the ship, I was thinking. The palace is filled with enemies, just like the nomes. These men have gathered enormous wealth, partially by stealing from you."

"I know that, it is the way of the world, we can't change that without a revolt."

"There already was one, and only foreign intervention saved us.", I reply, slowly heading towards my goal. I can still go back, avoid it all. But this is the only chance I see.

"Yes, and now we are still at their mercy. Another revolt, and they'll take over themselves."

"So anyone who could revolt should be removed?", I ask, as though it is the logical conclusion.

"Yes. Yes, finally you understand. But these Romans, they don't understand Egypt. Not like I do. Gabinius said that there shouldn't be any disruption.", Father replies, I was well aware of Roman moderation, but still, there should be a way.

"Yes, but what does he know? He is just a Roman, a slight step above a barbarian. And he will be gone soon."

"He will leave his men, to protect us.", The sarcasm is almost tangible. They're here to keep us prisoner, so the moneylenders get their ten thousand talents. The sheer amount of gold. still makes me a little sick.

"Yes, our guardians. But you could speak to them, bring them to your side. They are still men."

"They will be my tool, there is no need to worry over that. But do tell me, what have you planned? You can be honest, I do want you and your brother to succeed. And even an old man like me knows a few things."

I take another sip of wine, a long one. I need time, and I need courage. This gives me both. "Ever since our ancestors first came here, they have empowered those below them. But always the king was supreme. But, power has drifted down, settling in the nomes, in the topais, in the individual scribes. Our subjects have made themselves small kings, and took large parts of our incomes. My plan is to destroy them all. To persecute them for corruption, sedition, and blasphemy."

Ptolemy smiles, he clearly likes this: "You truly are my daughter, but killing them all is difficult, if not impossible. They would all revolt, and kill us instead."

"Yes, that is the problem. But every problem has a solution. We don't kill them all, we will show mercy, perhaps at the urging of the softer side of the throne. Many will be reinstated, but they will be frightened. Many will be convicted of lesser crimes, and of course, the most dangerous ones, the ones who are disliked even by their own, they lose their heads. The others can have other punishments, ones that are more profitable than mere blood. They can work for their sins, on profitable projects, such as the neglected canal to the Red Sea."

"A marvelous plan, truly, but how would you go about it?"

"I would found a kind of police, with its tentacles everywhere. They would be in the center of a web of informers, all of them bringing information, finding malcontent and sedition."

"That sounds like a dream, but the treasury remains empty, and this only makes more flow out."

"It will have its cost, yes, but imagine the income this can bring? And the security? Even if untrue, such information will let us destroy our enemies, and everyone who has even the slightest thing to hide will fear the soft knock at night. And it will not be all that expensive, most operations can pay for themselves, and there wil be very many volunteers, whether they like it or not."


	13. Chapter 13: Speaking for the gods

I wish that I could sit alone, to have some time to think. But it seems that the king disagrees, I almost have the feeling that he wants me too busy to plot. But that would be nonsensical, because I am plotting the downfall of men. And not just a few. I don't know what exactly convinced him, but here I am. Of course, I have my chaperones with me, a girl can't be alone outside the woman's quarters like that. It would be scandalous.

I hardly know the pair, freedwomen selected for what appears to be their stern demeanour. They were with us in exile, but I never spoke to them, or paid all that much attention really. They're not young, of course, that would be dangerous. Xanthe is the taller of them, and despite her name, she has black hair. The slightly shorter one is Nitocris. They're not just here to protect me from my feminine weakness, but more importantly, they're here to protect my father from me. Why else would he have sent women who between the two of them understand all the languages that I speak.

In front of me there are six men. They can't be trusted, not at all, and that's why they are here. I need them, their connections, and their expertise. For now that is, as soon as I can, they will have to be replaced by more reliable people, my own, not my father's, or worse, independent ones.

They are on their knees, showing something that they probably don't truly feel. Except, perhaps, one of the three priests, but he might also be better at faking it than the others. Perhaps he can be spared, but probably not. These men have not been selected for being trustworthy. But anyways, it's a great distraction from anything else, but at least I have found some time to visit the Musaeum in the afternoon.

I never liked meetings in the morning, and now it's even worse. I feel utterly exhausted, a feeling that I just can't shake off, no matter how much I try. Added to that, I feel lonely. I need someone to hold me, but I don't know how. I can't just go to a bar to pick someone up. It is annoying me, and I have to force myself to be friendly. And of course, to not do anything that might give the wrong impression.

"Rise.", I command. It feels strangely good to be obeyed, even if it is something that most would be glad to do anyways. Kneeling can sometimes be a bit unpleasant.

Somehow, I manage to sit upright, I find that slouching comes much more easily. There has to be something wrong with me, I think that I'm ill, but it seems to have always been like this. If I remember everything correctly. There still is so much that I don't know, but I fear for my health. There is something wrong with me, this just can't be normal.

But there is awfully little that I can do about it. It's not like there is a good medical profession to help me with that kind of thing, and I certainly don't trust them to not do some rather unpleasant things. No, I will have to live with it. Just like I will have to live with working with people such as these. "You have all been invited here for your expertise. In the light of recent events the king has decided that improvements must be made in our internal security. He has charged me with overseeing and organising these efforts. I was informed that you are men with experience and knowledge, and so I request your assistance. Are you willing to provide me with aid and advice?"

There is some hesitation, which leads to the thing that I hate most of all, being met with silence. I feel as though I said something wrong, they will refuse, of course they will. I didn't mention anything about what I actually wanted. Or what they would gain for that matter. Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, the first of them says something. He is a slightly overweight middle-aged man with a full beard, who clearly doesn't like the face that he is balding, leading to some kind of combover. Some things never change: "Holy Majesty, I beg your forgiveness"

Here it comes, he's going to refuse, soon to be followed by the others, "I am just a simple shopkeeper, not a man of great consequence or learning. I would serve you with my whole heart, but have little to serve you with."

I was wrong. This sounds more like some sort of test. I wasn't given any kind of information about these people, not even names. All that I was told is that they would be helpful. I don't know what to do, either he has some sort of cover, or my dearest father is playing games. Both are possible. I take in his appearance for a few moments, and something strikes me. His rings, golden rings, and his well-made clothes. If he is just a shopkeeper, he must be an immensely rich one. I feel eight pairs of eyes on me, but think that I know a bit more now. "Yes, but you must agree that a man, to succeed in his business, must know a great many people, and is bound to develop sources of information."

I allow myself a slight smile, showing that I enjoy these games. He nods: "Yes, Divine Majesty, a man in my position does know a few men, and if you wish it, I shall serve,"

Immediately thereafter one of the priests begins, also in Greek. It makes sense, it is the language of administration, and of course, of everyone with even a slight bit of learning. "Holy Majesty", he begins, clearly using the Greek form of my titles, and not the Egyptian one. He might be a priest, but to him it's just a position, not anything important. He wants to be a man of the world then. "I naturally serve you with the greatest pleasure, but, as you must understand, I do have other obligations, and would ask how we can meet them while serving you."

Funnily enough, he only really mentions serving me. That sounds like he thinks that I plan on using this power for myself. Of course, it is what I plan on doing, but I will have to be careful. He of course intends to rise with me, and for now, I shall let him. Until I am in the position to replace him, I want my own creatures, not those of others. But first of all, he wants to know his rewards. If only I knew a little more, Father isn't making this easy."Naturally you will be compensated for your efforts, it is my deepest wish to see those who serve with loyalty rewarded for their efforts. Especially ones which are so close to the king's heart. I understand that some acts that might be required might not be within the law, and should it be needed, they will be pardoned. Although it would of course be better if they are not spoken of."

Seriously, what do you pay them? Obviously there will be a fair bit of money and all that. For a moment the idea of a percentage enters my head, but that just means that they will arrest a whole bunch of innocents. A threat might be better to keep misbehaviour from happening. I don't like doing this, I would rather not, but what choice do I have? I need money, and have no desire whatsoever to be devoured, even if it is supposed to be over afterwards. But there is worse, far worse actually.

"Thank you, divine majesty.", Comes the reply. Somehow I get the feeling that he wished for more. Perhaps some land, even though I want more of it to be in royal hands. 

"I will see to the creation of a chamber to arrange all needs for your works. But first I would ask you to introduce yourself to your fellows, so everyone understands your capacities and resources."

I'm not all that experienced with meetings and the like, so I am just going with something that I recall from a few extremely dull ones. A silence falls over the room, lasting for a few moments while I look at each of my guests in turn. I wish that I could do something more, to actually get people to do what I want. In a way that they agree with me. But then again, these probably are far from good people anyways.

The first to speak up is the 'simple shopkeeper': "I am Antipater. I have a shop here, in the city, selling oils. Holy majesty, I beg your forgiveness for what I will say. The trade does not bring in much coin, and I have my family. So, I have my connections. Around the docks, I have my men. We take care of things, and people come to me. We keep the taverns clean, deal with debts. Things like that. And they pay me for it. I own some establishments myself, but mostly deal with the trouble."

A mob boss then. Well, he could be useful to find dirt on people, and of course, help with making people here in the city disappear. But he isn't exactly what I'm looking for to head any kind of department. It however seems that he has broken the ice, and the priest, the one who looks like he might not be a total fraud, speaks up: "I am Harkhebi, Divine Majesty. I have the honour to be a prophet in the priesthood of Amun here in the city. I will obey the commands of your divinity, but I am only versed in the rites, not in what it is that you ask of me."

He wants to get out. Good. That's the kind of person that I want to have. Unless he is playing a game with me. It would be a brilliant one. There has to be a reason why he is here, unless this is all just a sick joke. Or a plan to keep me too busy to plan a coup. It has to be the latter, there is no way that he could have gathered the right men within just one night. There isn't even a way to travel that fast. I have to find out how all of this was arranged.

The others also introduce themselves. The other priest who spoke is a member of the cult of Serapis, but one who clearly doesn't really care for religion. He however claims to have quite a few friends in other priesthoods. The final priest is in the cult of Isis, but also has a position in the palace. He works for the dioiketes, who basically is the finance minister, and seems knowledgeable about finances. Of the two other secular men, one already works in some sort of intelligence role, for the royal secretary. So I am actually receiving some kind of assistance with all of this. And finally, well, there is another Antipater, so the first one will be the shopkeeper. This one doesn't actually have any kind of work, he just has sufficient money for what he wants to do. He used to be an athlete, and he basically knows everyone in the city.

The rest of the meeting consists of me handing out tasks, promising to set up an office arranging the finances, setting the next meeting, arranging communications, promising to find room for the new bureau. When we are through everything that I can imagine, and when I feel utterly and totally exhausted, the second Antipater clears his throat: "Divine majesty, if I may, I have one more question. How are we to be named?"

I resist the urge to suggest something like 'Ministry of Love' or 'Egyptian Inquisition', even though nobody would ever expect them. Or have any clue what I was talking about for that matter. Unfortunately, this is something that I didn't think about at all, but I am expected to have done so. "The Department for, ehm, the protection of Order"

It's rubbish. It's a downright dreadful name. But I can't think of anything better. It doesn't even give a good abbreviation in three letters, like any such agency should have. I am a terrible queen. But no one protests. Of course they don't. They're not as stupid as I would be in their position. "But, should any of you have a better suggestion, I am more than willing to hear it."

"Divine Majesty", Harkhebi begins, "If you can forgive me, but would it be possible to add a reference to virtue?"

He almost sounds shy, and I give him a smile: "Then it will be the Department for the Protection of Order and Virtue."


	14. Chapter 14: Home of the Muses

Finally I reach the most famous part of the city, the Musaeum which contains the library. Naturally, my chaperones are with me, along with armed guards and my carriers. I feel sorry for them, to have to carry me everywhere. To make things worse, they have, well, been treated to allow them into my areas, they are all eunuchs, but unlike the important ones, they were cut after puberty. I wish that I could do something for them, but I can hardly go walking. It would not only be too dangerous, but I don't know if I would actually manage it. I keep feeling so awfully weak and tired.

I try not to yawn as I am carried through the gates, this is important, but I feel so tired. I have the feeling that I could fall asleep, but know that I can't. I tried it after the previous meeting, and I just couldn't sleep. I never used to have major issues with it, but I think that it has to be caused by my recent experiences. And the awful heat. It seems to be winter, and relatively cold here, but I just keep sweating and feeling warm. Of course, it could also just be that I am mortally afraid of everything. I have the feeling that everything is a danger. If I cut myself, disinfecting it will be complicated. And if it gets infected, there are no antibiotics. And I don't want to rely on my health, I have reason to suspect that it is far from perfect. How else can I be so weak? Unless someone keeps poisoning me, but that would be difficult to do, given the different sources. Only my father would have that kind of influence, and if he wanted me dead, he would just kill me. 

My ancestors have been wise enough to make this a separate part from the palaces and gardens that are my home, I presume that there will also be entrances from these gardens, but it seems that for my first visit, I should enter through the front doors. People moved aside for me, but there was none of the cheering that I found in Memphis, it felt more like the people were actually keeping their distance, doubtlessly frightened by recent events. And to be fully honest, I can't really blame them for that. What happened was pretty horrible. And given what I have heard and seen since our arrival, it looks like my father has been rather bloody in the last few days.

Through the gates of the famed Musaeum, I see lines of columns, providing shadow in their galleries. And the buildings. Everything has been put together of course, but still the differences can be seen, in style and in size. It makes sense, all of this wasn't built in one day. But everything breathes Hellenism. My eyes are drawn to the statues that stand between the columns, painted in bright colours. It reminds me of the reproductions I saw in several places, but most of all those in the Allard Pierson Museum, it was a real eye-opener at the time, but despite that I always kept imagining the ancient world in a serene white. But these, they are different. I could spend my whole day in this courtyard, admiring the fine sculptures. These aren't the eroded and damaged works that populate museums , they are in a perfect state, unravaged by time and vandals. 

But i can't focus on them. There is a whole delegation waiting for me, perhaps a few hundred men. I had expected less, but then it strikes me that my father probably hasn't been here yet, which means that I am the first royal visitor since the invasion. I don't know if Berenice went here all that often. Cleopatra's exile started when she was too young to really know her sister, and she never was told all that much about the details of her rule. The scholars might believe that I am here to judge them, and that the king doesn't consider them to be important enough to warrant his own attention. Which in turn means that my visit is an insult, and this kind of man tends to have a very fragile ego.

They are all kneeling, in what almost looks like ordered rows. I presume that the more important ones will be in front, but still it is clear that the hierarchy isn't that strong. Plenty of them aren't exactly where they should be, and what should be organised, well, it is clear enough that it is meant to be like that. But it simply isn't. I sit upright, which is something that I had to make myself do, because it is much more comfortable to lean back, and less exhausting. I however have an image to preserve: "Rise."

The simple word achieves what it should, and the scholars stand up. Some of them with greater ease than others. It almost surprises me, but a fair few, especially of the younger ones, are actually quite athletic. But then I remember that they will probably also be regulars at the gymnasium. "We thank you for receiving us, and taking the time to meet with us."

It is a bit strange, to be sitting, but above them. I wonder how heavy I feel to the carriers. At least I'm rather thin, but this throne can't be too light. But it's not as strange as the way of talking, but I can't avoid it, I'm here as the queen. 

One of the older men, dressed as a priest, replies: "Holy majesty, it is us who are grateful to be able to welcome your divine presence in our midst."

He must be the head of the Musaeum then. And at least he has some clue about what to say. Even if it is abundantly clear that he doesn't actually agree with what he said. He thinks that it's a waste of time to talk to me. But this at least is something that I am used to. He only receives me because a slight against me could see him killed, or worse, his funding cut. But I am just an obstacle, and perhaps a source of money. He might be learned, but I know a million times more than he can even imagine. And not just about the sciences.

"But still, we have a request, if it isn't too much to ask, but we greatly desire to be given a tour of the Musaeum."

The priest bows again: "As you will it, divine majesty, it would be my greatest pleasure to show you these halls."

All the others are still watching, reminding me of when someone important came to visit at the institute, and everyone just had to stand there, getting annoyed at the waste of time. I raise my voice: "We thank you for your welcome, good sirs, but you doubtlessly have important work to do, so please, don't let us take you from your studies."

I can almost feel the relief, but no one departs yet. They obviously don't want to be the first to do so. I however can't make them do it, not without appearing as a tyrant. And I want to make friends, not more enemies.

Then I remember, I can't really be carried through this place, I will have to walk. "Lower me.", I command, and immediately my carriers lower their burden. I stand up, and step from the throne, with a light feeling in my head. But I persevere, and take another few steps, and my vision slowly clears. A gentle breeze is blowing from the sea, taking some of the dreadful heat away. My chaperones take position right behind me, and my guards stand a little further back. I hope that the carriers get a bit of rest, they don't have it all that easy.

The priest bows again: "Divine majesty, if you will follow me?"

As he walks next to me I again hate how short I am, I loathe looking up to people, and it's all I really do. I would much rather be seated, so it's not as obvious. But despite this I can't just sulk, especially now that my guide begins to speak: "Here in the Musaeum we have eight hundred and thirty nine of the most learned men in the world studying a variety of subjects, from poetry to medicine, all thanks to your generosity. Aside from that, there are two hundred slaves who maintain the library, where more than six hundred thousand books have been collected. There are more than five hundred copyists working at this moment, and there are several hundred students. But I can't give an exact number, because it varies immensely by the day. And, if you will permit me, the price of cheap wine."

I can't help myself, and burst out laughing, a lot of tension blowing away. Some things seemingly never change. "That sounds very impressive. Counting everyone, there must be thousands of men here."

"There are, and a few women. If you will forgive me saying this. Due to their nature they obviously shouldn't be here, but there are those who hide themselves in the dress of a man. When they are found, and they always are, because they do not have the souls for learning, we return them to their fathers."

His little story, meant to make me feel more at ease with its comedy, comes across as slightly rehearsed. It must have been told a dozen times already, but not to me, and I reply: "Of course you do, everyone should know their place. That's what my father always says. I however do wish to learn from the wisdom of your scholars, if this is possible."

For a moment I can see shock on his face, but he quickly recovers: "As you will it, divine majesty. It would be a great pleasure to provide you with guidance."

"Good. I learned many things from my tutors and my reading, but there still is so much to learn.“

“There always is much to learn, divine majesty, we all know so little of all there is to know in the world. What do you wish to know more of in particular?”

I hadn’t expected that question yet, but there are a few things where I might be able to make an impression, so I can be taken seriously and, perhaps more importantly, start making my mark. There are so many ideas that I can introduce, but first I need some kind of standing, so I will be taken seriously when I propose them. “I have always taken an interest in nature, how things work. Mathematics also are dear to me, and I would gladly expand my knowledge of the field.”

When I mention mathematics the priest interrupts me: ”It is rare, divine majesty, for an august person such as you to take an interest in the study of numbers. And if I may say so, a mark of greatness. After all, it was your divine ancestor, Soter, who let the author of the Elements to study in his home.”

Soter I know, it’s impossible to not know, he is the first of the Ptolemies. But the author of the Elements is a name that is rather unfamiliar to me, Cleopatra seemingly never really studied things like this, she wasn’t even told about them. Which might make faking things a little harder. Fortunately, I do have a bit of a background myself. More than enough to achieve my goals, I hope. “It is one of the great deeds of my ancestors, and I reckon their patronage of wisdom to be the among the things that I am most proud of in my heritage.”

He nods: “Yes, divine majesty. It indeed is a great blessing for those of us who seek wisdom. But despite the generosity that we experience, our financial situation has worsened over the years.”

Of course. Here he comes for what truly matters to him, funding. I can’t really evade the topic, not in his hallways and without something too obvious to draw my attention. “It is something that greatly saddens me, and very much wish to change. But as you doubtlessly understand, the king has many different obligations to meet, especially at this time. I will bring your needs to his attention, and am quite certain that his charitable heart will agree.”

I know that it sounds a lot like a no, and the priest probably also knows it. Speaking of knowledge, I wish that I knew his name, but it seems that introductions are rather difficult. “I thank you for that, divine majesty.”

The tour is quite spectacular. I have been in a fair few libraries, but none of them had this feeling to them. And of course, all of them had actual books, not just endless rows of scrolls. And then there are the lecture rooms, the common rooms, the courtyards. This really is spectacular, and in a way, reminds me of home. Only cleaner, and a slight bit more organised. Finally, we reach another set of doors, and my guide pauses: “Divine majesty, normally this would be part of the tour, the cutting halls, but I fear that it might not fit your temperament.”

“What is it that is done in these rooms then?”, I ask, my curiosity sparked.

“This is where the anatomists perform their studies.”, he replies, “and I do not know if your constitution allows you to witness it, many consider it to be difficult to stomach.”

So, it’s that old thing about girls not being able to stand the sight of blood again. One of the most nonsensical things that I’ve ever heard. Whoever started it obviously never had a period.

“There is no need to worry over my composure, I have seen a fair few sights that would shake many men, and am not just a girl. I am a queen, the daughter of a living god.”, I reply with a bit more fervour than I perhaps should. But then again, I have seen some pretty messed-up things these last few days, and of course, I have been in the anatomy cellar of my old university. Not officially of course, but my ex sneaked me in at night. And seriously, how much worse can it be than the things that I’ve already seen?

“As you will it, divine majesty.”, It seems like he had expected something like this. It makes sense, it absolves him of responsibility if something happens. Not that my father wouldn’t have him killed if something happened to me, but still.

A servant opens the door, and almost immediately, I am hit by the smell. The air is heavy, and it smells like death. Suddenly I remember why I don’t like places like this, and wish that I had refused. But then again, I couldn’t. I have to look strong. But despite that, I feel my legs. I want to sit down, but that would be an admission of weakness. And I won’t admit even a hint of that. Not as long as I’m not fully secure in my position. And staying alive. That’s the most important part. I force myself to stride into the room, which is surprisingly bright, despite the lack of windows. There are several men, and when they see me, they kneel. One of them, with a rather impressive beard, still has a knife in his hand. I can’t hide, like I would want to, to just listen, and maybe ask a question at the end, and so I begin: “Please, do stand up. I am here to learn. Could you tell me who you and your companions are?”

All five of them stand up, still looking rather uncomfortable. The impressively-bearded one begins to speak: “Y-yes, divine majesty. I am Meliton, son of Lykourgos. This is Markos, of Athens, this is Phokas, of Antioch, this is Hero, born in Alexandria, and this is Gaius, the Roman.”

All four of them bow their heads in turn as they are mentioned, and it becomes clear to me that I am interrupting something. I almost feel sorry, they probably don’t feel all that comfortable. But then again, I also don’t feel all that well. “I greet you. Could you tell me what you are doing?”

“I, I am showing these men the arteries, which they must know to be proficient in the medical arts. I myself research the workings of the human body, by, ehm, by cutting it open, so to say.”

“The arteries, yes, I have been told about them. But things might be a little unclear. Could you show me?”

“Oh, of course, divine majesty.”, he takes a step back, allowing me to see the body on the table. I feel a little sickness in my stomach, I don’t know if I want to see this, but I have to.

“As you can see”, he points at the heart, “These are the lungs, which take in the air with every breath. From them, you can see these arteries, fusing into the pulmonary artery, from which the air passes into the right side of the heart."

He pushes the lungs aside, to show it to me. The sound is far from pleasant, and it takes all of my self-control to not show how I feel inside. Inside the heart, the air passes to the left side, from which it is forced into the aorta, to be distributed through the body."

I don't know what to say. I know that circulation was a medieval discovery, but I don't know how to prove it. "And how about the veins?", I ask.

"Ah yes, the arteries. I haven't made the necessary cuts for it, but the basics still work. Blood arrives in the heart, in the left atrium, as you can see here. From there, it passes to the right. From there, it is pumped into this vein, and passes to the liver, where it is fed with growth."

I nod, trying to work things out. I never even knew this theory. I keep my eyes on the open chest, not wanting to see the face. Without it, this is much easier. "If you will permit me, I think that there is an alternative explanation."

I hear the sharp intakes of breath from all around me, but I won't let it stop me. Especially not now that I've said this. "What, ehm, what is your theory?", Meliton asks, the surprise all too clear in his voice.

"My theory is that the blood in fact carries the air, or certain fractions of it. The blood that flows from the heart heads to the arteries. First, from the right side, it is pumped to the lungs, where it is spread out over many smaller vessels to collect the air, which it takes up. The air then darkens the blood. From there, it flows into the pulmonary vein, to be pumped into the aorta and the other arteries. These distribute the air-bearing blood over the body, through ever smaller vessels. These in turn carry the blood to the veins, which gather at the heart, to return it to start the cycle afresh."

When I'm finished, I look up, at all these people. Everyone is silent, although it doesn't feel like the positive kind. Suddenly, words burst from Meliton's mouth: "That is preposterous! It goes against everything we know!"

The priest puts a hand on his shoulder: "Meliton, remember in whose presence you stand."

"No, Timeon, no! This is an insult. An insult I tell you!"

Guards come forwards, their swords ready to strike him down. I should have known better than to just posit an alternative theory. Old men never listen, they want the world to stay like they think it is. But there is no going back. I have too much pride to give in, especially when I'm actually right. "Leave him be, I forgive him, he doesn't know."

I turn around, striding out, followed by my entourage.


	15. Chapter 15: The Inner Gardens

I am positively fuming. How dares that pathetic little man. He just doesn’t want to see the truth, and it’s only my distaste for violence that hasn’t seen him join his subject in death. I’m not a bully, not like that. Outwardly I however remain calm, the ‘gift’ of a lifetime of being told that I am a terrible person for who I am by the people I care the most about. Timeon, the priest, rushes to my side: “Holy majesty, I am so deeply sorry for Meliton’s behaviour. I beg your understanding, he is a stubborn man, but the most learned when it comes to the body.”

I don’t reply at once, I first have to calm myself down. “He might be learned, but it seems as though he does not want to see any potential flaws in his theory, such as the lack of a connection between the sides of the heart.”

“Of course, holy majesty, I will set things in motion to expel him from the Musaeum, and to have his pension removed.”

“There is no need for that. I have no desire to remove those who disagree with me. The Musaeum is an institute of scholarship, and in it, there will always be disagreements. But such disagreements shouldn’t have consequences, or nothing will ever be learned.”, It is difficult to say it, but I can’t keep silent about this. If I would, I would destroy everything that I want to build. Research should be independent, and it’s almost unfortunate that I am the one with the knowledge in this situation. But still, that idiot should have been more polite. The next time I am going to be less merciful. 

Timeon bows his head: “Your wisdom is truly great, holy majesty, especially for your age and, well, your feminity. Might I ask who instructed you?”

Luckily, I know the names, but the issue is, they weren’t that good. Of course, I can quote Homer, and that sort of thing. I know geography and history, perhaps even things that were already forgotten in the future, but which I wouldn’t have known either way. But they never told me much about anatomy, math, or the sciences. Not enough to explain what I know. I start to realise that I made a big mistake, I should have waited, not have drawn attention. That should only have come once my father is dead and on display. Which reminds me, I should definitely visit the Sema, where my ancestors lie, and of course, Alexander himself. 

“Nikias of Antioch taught me, along with Telesphoros of Ptolemais.”, I reply.

“I know them yes. Nikias is a one of the best poets I knew, and Telesphoros is a great historian. They have both been put forward to receive stipends to study at the Musaeum. But, if you will permit me to ask holy majesty, you said that you are familiar with mathematics, and have obviously also studied the body. And I ask myself, who were your tutors?”

And here it comes, the question that I have no good answer to. Timeon obviously knows nearly everyone in almost every field, which is his job. That means that I can’t just invent someone, or several someones. If only because he will ask after them, and find no trace. No, that’s too dangerous. But my only other path is one that is almost as dangerous. For a moment, a third option surges up in my head, claiming that I received it all in my dreams, but that is too dangerous. “I was taught by Euklides, Archimedes and Pythagoras. I have read, and I have trained myself in my own time. I confess that I do not remember everything, I did not have as much time for it as I wished in Rome, but I spent much time thinking about these things, hoping to explore them on my return here.”

It is a stupid answer, I know, but at least I did read quite a bit in Ptolemy’s villa in Rome, and no one can just check what he had in his library. He himself probably doesn’t even know. 

“You taught yourself?”, the surprise in his voice is all too clear. 

“With the assistance of books, yes.”, Of course, I actually did a lot more to learn what I know, and had teachers, but starting about them would only make things worse. And this way, I have an excuse for my mistakes.

Again, Timeon nods, it seems to be a habit of his when he’s listening. He probably doesn’t take what I think to know very seriously, I did after all just go against one of his experts with a completely new theory. I have to get out of here, so I can get some time to let things settle and to develop a new strategy. “That is most admirable, holy majesty, it is most rare for one to learn by himself. Let alone by herself.”

He is getting to me, slowly but surely he is getting there. I feel sorely tempted to show him for an ignoramus right in front of his peers. That should serve him right for his constant references to me being a woman. I have had enough of that in school, and at university. And outside it. And every single time there was only one answer, at least, to me. Being good at what I did. At everything. “There are few who descend from the saviour, and through him from Phillip, the father of Alexander himself. I am the daughter of a god and a goddess, and divinity flows through my veins. There are few who can say that about themselves without lying. I was born to be queen, to rule by the side of my brother and my father. And as Plato himself said, there can be no end to the trouble of states and humanity until the kings and rulers are lovers of wisdom.”

“That is most admirable, holy majesty. I, and those who work in this place, will of course serve you with advice and lessons if you request them.”

“Thank you. If possible, I would like to fill my mornings with lessons and discussions of all things, when other duties do not stand in the way.”

“We would be honoured to help you with this, holy majesty.”

“Thank you. Of course, there are a great many fields that I must study, but I believe that I would wish to start to learn more about mathematics, and something else that has come to fascinate me, mechanics. Would it be possible to send men learned in those things to visit me in the gardens?”

“As you will it, holy majesty, I will make sure that you will speak with the finest minds in their fields. And if you will permit me, I studied with Hipparchus of Nicaea, and have spent many years learning the secrets of the forms. I will gladly instruct you in them.”

Of course, he wants to put himself into the important position, after all, that’s where power is. And money. There is no reason to not indulge him, I need good connections in this place, and not just negative impressions. “I would be honoured to be taught by one as esteemed as you are. I also have another request, which might sound silly at first.”

“Holy majesty, there is no such thing as a silly question, there only are silly answers.”, Timeon replies with a platitude. But I won’t let that dissuade them, because a nice new idea has just formed in my head.

“You did mention earlier that occasionally there are women who seek to work in this place. It is most immoral, and against their nature however to work in a masculine place. I would ask you to send them to me, so I can speak with them in the evenings, when I have withdrawn to my rooms. I can after all not entertain men.”

“Oh! Of course holy majesty. But it is exceedingly rare, the vast majority knows their place.”, Or they lack the means and the chance to escape. But that never gets mentioned. But this way, I might be able to save a few from a life of horrors.

“Naturally, it will not be a reward, but it is a way of protecting those who do not fit to their natural role. I fear that someone who goes to such an extreme length could otherwise, well, fall into even worse habits.”

“Of course, holy majesty.”


End file.
